JxHQ: Snuff
by princessebee
Summary: An Arkham security guard gets the opportunity of his life when he captures two infamous inmates on video and takes it to the internet. Only problem: the participants never signed a release form. OOPS. Crackfic!
1. Captured

**ONE**

James "Jimbo" Davidson was bored stiff.

Arkham Asylum just wasn't as interesting when everyone was behaving.

He'd been a nightshift security guard for three months now and at the ripe old age of twenty-eight was already well versed in the various intricacies of night security. At two hundred and eighty pounds, an IQ of a hundred and twenty and an emphatic disinterest in formal education, work as a nightclub bouncer had been the obvious career choice. It allowed him to curry favour with pretty girls and flex a little authority as well as smoke on the job. It had suited him just fine.

But after he'd collared a drunken teenager who'd kicked out the taillight of a silver Mercedes, he found himself moving up in the world. The owner of the Mercedes had offered him a better-paying job as head of security for his firm and Jimbo had accepted. He could still smoke on the job and although there were no pretty girls, there was the latest in computer equipment to download porn on and he was inside out of the cold in winter.

Yeah, it had been a sweet deal but Jimbo had gotten greedy. Some of his old contacts from the various clubs he'd worked at had gotten in touch, sussing out the possibility for Jimbo and his crew neglecting to observe the cameras in one section of the building on a particular Friday evening, resulting in the lifting of a state of the art range of electronics equipment. Jimbo got a cut of course but, as it turns out, fellas didn't become owners of silver Mercedes by being stupid. Jerks, maybe, but not stupid.

Of course nothing could be proven, but Jimbo had found himself jobless nonetheless.

And so that was how he'd wound up at Arkham Asylum. This joint couldn't afford to be picky with who they employed. Security was either passionately devoted to the philosophy of keeping Gotham's unique crazies off the streets, or they were opportunists with shady pasts and ulterior motives.

For the moment Jimbo was content with a steady paycheck and the right to smoke on shift, but he wasn't averse to a little opportunity either.

New staff at the Asylum were kept from direct contact with the high security inmates until they'd settled in and gotten used to the way things were. Jimbo consequently found himself on monitor duty and the occasional hall patrol, night after night, while he learned the ropes, watched and absorbed.

Bouncing clubs, he'd seen a few kinky sights; some ugly fights go down, even a celebrity or two in compromising positions. But Arkham had already far outstripped the feeble constraints of "wild" his sordid but simple mind could conceive of. He'd witnessed inmates calmly plucking out their eyebrow hairs one by one, having frenzied, teary conversations with wooden puppets, flip a coin to make the decision between fifty or a hundred push-ups before lights out and swallow whole raw chickens. Monitor duty wasn't bad at all, all things considered.

But that night, the screens were quiet. The inmates were rugged up in their cots, sleeping peacefully or unconscious beneath the heavy weight of liberally administered sedatives. A rare and alien calmness had descended on the asylum and Jimbo was yawning restlessly in his seat, a can of soda in one hand, cigarette in the other, and feet propped up on his desk.

Couldn't forget the porn tomorrow.

Movement flickered in one of the screens in the upper left-hand corner of the wall of monitors that constantly flickered before him.

He darted a bleary eye towards it and watched disinterestedly. The particular room it was focused on was one of the electroshock therapy treatment rooms, the hulking machines lurking grimly around plain white cots. The presence of a camera there was new; ever since a negligent nurse had stepped out to retrieve a forgotten magazine and the inmate currently receiving therapy had gone into cardiac arrest. There was movement again and a figure moved across the path of the camera. Jimbo dug his pinkie finger into his ear, scratching vigorously. Probably another guard, or maybe a doctor doing some late night – thing.

The figure returned, this time with another and now Jimbo lurched forward, knocking his soda can to the floor where it fizzed, spilling liquid across the linoleum. There was no mistaking who it was skulking around the treatment room and Jimbo found himself sputtering and fumbling across his desk, knocking aside the computer keyboard and scattering a bag of M&Ms in his haste to hit the alarm.

Then he stopped, his hand arrested inches from the red button, his eyes fixed hard on the monitor. As he continued to watch, his eyes grew rounder and his jaw slacker until finally he was watching fully agape with the same stunned expression of a landed trout.

Slowly, he sank back down into his chair, the vinyl creaking beneath his weight, and a drop of spittle collecting in the corer of his o-shaped mouth.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

No way he'd got this lucky. No way.


	2. Ripped

**TWO**

"Holy shit," Danny echoed Jimbo's sentiment of the night before, staring agog at the activities that unfolded themselves on the thirty-inch flat screen in front of them.

Four men, including Jimbo, sat on a split and scratched leather couch, gazing transfixed at the video Jimbo had stealthily lifted from Arkham Asylum.

Marky, a skinny wannabe hacker with a beanie pulled down hard on his shaved hand, raised a shaking hand and pointed at the screen.

"I-I-is th-that – " he began when Jimbo silenced him with a nod.

"Yeah," Jimbo whispered.

"Does it got sound?" Enrique queried and in response Danny lifted the remote control and hit the volume button.

A second later and the frenetic activity on the screen was given an appropriate soundtrack, the small, messy living room filling with the noises that had been captured along with the action. All four men recoiled slightly against the assault of it, before sitting forward once more, continuing to boggle.

"Oh, man. This is _it._" Enrique murmured and the others nodded their silent agreement.

Danny hit the volume button again, once more muting the video.

"Okay, this is what we're gonna do," he said to the others without tearing his eyes away from the screen. The other listened in a similar fashion. "Marky, you're gonna set up the website. Domain, layout, design, whole bit. Make sure it can't be downloaded by your average surfer schmoe. Someone'll get copies eventually but we'll get a good run out of it until then. Once that's done, the rest of us will start hitting any forum we can find. Spread the link everywhere and anywhere."

Four sets of eyes widened in unison at something that flickered across the screen and Enrique repeated his earlier utterance: "Oh, man."

Danny continued: "We'll set up a pay-per-view screening every twelve hours. They gotta pay to watch it each time. Fifteen bucks a pop. There'll be a lot of repeat buyers on this one."

"Might need more than one site," Marky muttered, gaze fixed on the screen and Danny half-nodded.

"We'll start with one, see how we go. Once the media gets hold of it, we'll be done. But by then it shouldn't matter. Cops may be interested; our tracks'll have to be well-covered."

"No fear," was all Marky said.

"Thanks bro," Jimbo muttered. "Knew I could count on you."

"How much longer is it?" Enrique queried and Jimbo lifted a can of beer to his lips, where it hovered as he continued to stare at the video, unwilling to look away for even a second.

"It goes for a while," he replied.

"Oh man," Enrique said for the third time.

"Well," Danny said, making no move to get up or stop the tape. "We should get onto it."

The others all nodded silently again. None of them moved.


	3. Spammed

_The content gets a little coarser. It's rated M for a reason folks!_

_--_

**THREE**

_**CRAZED ECSTASY**_

_**The video Arkham Asylum doesn't want you to see!**_

_Arkham Asylum: where passions run high, frenzied lunatics all day trapped in close confinement with each other, no outlet for their base desires!_

_But sometimes the beast just has to break free!_

_Guaranteed to be the hottest XXX video you'll EVER see this is porn with a difference – no actors, no choreography and no faking! This is the REAL DEAL: two of Arkham Asylum's most famous inmates in FULL-BLOWN, HARDCORE FUCKING._

_Ever imagined two costumed crazies sucking, blowing, biting and cumming? SEE THE REALITY._

_This exclusive video was secretly captured just last week in the Asylum by one lucky peeping tom. Don't let him be the only one!_

_YOU'VE SEEN THESE GUYS ON YOUR TV AND IN THE NEWSPAPERS, MAIMING, KILLING AND BLOWING THINGS UP. _

_**NOW SEE THEM GIVE INTO THE CALL OF THE WILD AND WATCH THEM OBEY THEIR EROTIC INSTINCTS WITH EACH OTHER IN THE HOTTEST TRIPLE XXX TOTALLY AUTHENTIC MIND BLOWING FUCK FEST ON THE INTERNET!**_

_AS REAL AS IT GETS, AS NATURAL AS CAN BE, NOTHING IS ACTED FOR THE CAMERA COS THEY DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THE CAMERA WAS THERE!_

_ALL real, ALL natural, ALL HERE EXCLUSIVELY FROM www. crazedecstasy. com_

_Available for exclusive download **at 6.00pm EST August 17. ONLY 15 FOR ALL THE FREAK FUCKING YOU COULD WANT!**_

_**WWW. CRAZEDECSTASY. COM**_

_**JOIN IN THE COUNTDOWN!**_

Tim Drake rolled his eyes and hit the back button. No matter how hard the moderators tried, the spammers still found a way to create dummy accounts and post their crap on the forum.

He wasn't even slightly perturbed by the claims of this one – in Gotham City there was an entire sub-genre of "Rogues Gallery" themed pornography, most of it featuring professional porn stars in bad wigs and cheap costumes as Poison Ivy and Catwoman. Nearly all of it claimed to be "authentic", constructed around the flimsiest stab at a "plot" conceivable – invariably involving a man in a cheap Batman costume being 'captured' and 'tortured'.

A sort of morbid curiosity had once prompted him, long ago, to take a cursory glance at the Gotham Pubic Works website, the principal purveyors of this trash. His stomach had turned at the 'Interrogation' category – '_thrill as Batman and the cops are obliged to use extreme force on these villainous vixens', _his lunch had risen to his throat at the 'Lesbian' category – _'be voyeur to the kinkiest girl-on-girl-gone-wild'_, but it had been the 'Robin' category – _'watch as this boy wonder grows up in mind-blowing feats of fucksome fun!' _– that had him kicking the computer plug out of the wall and hurtling, dry-retching, into the bathroom.

After that, he'd banished all awareness of it to the furthest recesses of his mind.

He was about to surf on when a stab of unease struck him. He hadn't seen the Gotham Pubic Works logo in the post, or any reference to the company. That didn't necessarily mean anything. No one had a monopoly on the pornography trade, after all.

Still…

He hesitated another moment, then clicked back onto the topic. The screen flashed and changed, the block of text once more dominating the browser window.

'Arkham' was another popular category of the genre, of course. What was about this one that bothered him? His eyes flickered across the monitor until they fixed onto a particular sentence:

_NOTHING IS ACTED FOR THE CAMERA COS THEY DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THE CAMERA WAS THERE!_

So? Of course they'd say that. It'd be part of the gimmick.

But something about it just niggled at him.

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he hit the link.

The website was plain and simple in contrast to most porn sites which had borders of lurid images in bold technicolour. A blank "screen" was set in the middle of a black background. Beneath it a timer clicked down to the appointed hour. Above it was a link: "PURCHASE & MORE INFO"

_Just hitting the link doesn't mean you're going to purchase_, he told himself as his hand hovered over the mouse. _Anyway, you need more info._

_Go through our secure purchase system to order one (1) viewing of Crazed Ecstasy. You will be supplied with a unique key pass. At 6.00pm EST, 17__th__ August, the screen on the front page will ask you to punch in your key. You will then be able to view the video._

After that there was a button: ORDER.

Beneath the button, in font so tiny he had to squint to read it:

_Key pass is good for one viewing only after which your key pass will expire. Subsequent viewings will require re-purchase._

Okay. _That _was weird.

Frowning, he copied the link, clicked onto his email and created a new one, pasting the link into the body. In the subject header he wrote: _might be worth investigating._

From his address book he selected: "Oracle"

--

_My sincere apologies to the good folks at Gotham Public Works. I just couldn't resist the pun!_


	4. Jammed

**FOUR**

Dick Grayson leant back in the desk chair in front of his computer monitor with his feet up on a balance ball, chowing down a protein bar. It was 5.55PM and he was the one who'd volunteered to watch _Crazed Ecstasy_.

He figured he already knew what the video contained: two "actors" in bad costumes screwing each other stupid. Trite, unimaginative and lurid. Probably good for a chuckle for about five seconds before it started to get repetitive and then he'd flick it off and head out for his shift in Bludhaven.

But Babs had named it as earning a look and with Tim begging off due to "being underage" and Babs pointedly claiming she had 'important leads to follow on significant cases' and Batman having nothing to say but a click and a dialtone, the task had fallen to he, the stalwart Nightwing, scourge of bad pornographers everywhere, to make the ultimate sacrifice.

He lazily scratched his chest through the t-shirt he wore, yawned around a mouthful of whey protein and nuts and cast a quick glance outside his window. Dusk was falling and he was itching to get out there and stretch his muscles. Not much longer now…

Interest in the mysterious video had spread like wildfire thanks to the site's Spartan presentation and intriguing premise of being available only at certain intervals. Dick couldn't know it, but there were currently three thousand other people spread along the East Coast and approximately a thousand around the rest of the country, waiting out the countdown

On his monitor, the browser window was open to the website, where the blank screen waited and the timer clicked down.

5:59:30

5:59:40

5:59:50

6:00:00

Dick fixed a bored eye on the monitor as the screen flickered and an input box appeared.

_Enter pass key:_

He snatched up the post-it note he'd scribbled the sequence of numbers and letters down on, and tapped them in, then hit: ENTER.

A second late and the tape began.

He sighed as the scene opened in what appeared to be an electro-shock treatment room. It looked surprisingly authentic – the machines clearly three dimensional and made of gleaming metal rather than painted cardboard and plastic. Even the white cots looked new, instead of the rusty old secondhands one would usually expect.

For a few seconds, the screen stayed still on the scene. Then a disturbingly familiar tall, slim figure walked into view, dragging behind him a petite girl. The figure stopped, whirled on the girl and lifted her up onto one of the cots where they immediately fell into a clinching embrace, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, his hands scooping beneath her buttocks and jerking her against him.

Dick was staring agog at the monitor, his eyes growing rounder in disbelief.

There was no way he was seeing this. It – it had to be actors. Really authentic looking actors. On a really authentic looking set. Who'd set up a really authentic seeming "security video" from a single angle.

For that totally authentic feel.

Then the man laughed, his partner giggled, and Dick's worst dreams were realised, the mouthful of protein he'd just swallowed like a cold stone in his gut.

The Joker and Harley Quinn were devouring each other fervently in what was clearly an Arkham security tape. Dick watched, his jaw slack with disgust, as The Joker wrenched Harley's asylum pyjama top off, then grasped her bouncing breasts hard in each hand, kissing her so fiercely it looked like she would choke. Harley's eyes were closed in ecstasy and she moaned loudly against the Joker's ardour, her own hand fumbling with the fly of his pyjama bottoms.

Joker broke the kiss, and Dick's quiet apartment was filled with the sounds of the two breathing heavily, panting into each other's mouths.

"We have to be quick, Baby," The Joker purred and Harley made a little noise of protest to which Joker tsk'd. "Just had to make sure my little Harley-Girl's engine was serviced. I know how rusty you get without a good revvin'!"

Dick smacked his forehead with the palm of one hand. They even made puns to each other when they screwed?

"Vroom vroom, Daddy!" Harley squealed gleefully as Joker climbed up onto the cot, pushing Harley down onto it and taking up position between her legs.

Dick gagged on a mouthful of protein. _Did she just call him DADDY?_

As if in answer, Harley moaned again as Joker nipped and licked at her breasts: "Oh yeah, Daddy, you know how to make your little girl smile!"

Dick had only felt this special sort of nausea a few times in his life. The first time had been when he'd eaten a slug as a dare when he was five. The second had been when he'd first slipped from his Dad's grip a hundred feet in the air and watched the ground rush up to meet him before feeling the cradling give of the net catch him. And then there was this.

Joker was wrenching Harley's pyjama bottoms off, the front of his own tented outwards with the evidence of his excitement. Dick was momentarily struck dumb by the realisation he was looking at the Joker displaying one hell of a hard-on before a more awful awareness flooded him and he made a fumbling snatch for his cell phone, frantically jabbing the appropriate speed dial.

On screen, Joker pushed Harley's thighs open, bent down into her face to gleefully declare he'd better "check her gears were well-oiled!" before leaning back and lowering his head between her legs. Harley's delirious moans rose in gasping waves, almost drowning out Tim's voice as he answered on the other end.

"What the hell is _that_?" Tim exclaimed and Dick hastily shut the browser window, unable to endure any more.

"You don't want to know, trust me. Listen, you gotta do me a favour: whatever you do just make sure Babs doesn't see this video!"

--

_God, what will happen next?_


	5. Blocked

**FIVE**

Twenty minutes after the video had finished playing, three hundred and twenty-five internet forums, seven hundred and fifteen chat-rooms, seventy-six livejournal communities and two thousand facebook communities were inundated.

Entrepreneurial surfers had managed to screen grab choice shots from the video that they distributed widely, causing a variety of pop culture and amateur entertainment websites to leap into frenzied updating. Dedicated bloggers posted instantaneous commentary on the Joker's sexual prowess (did he come more than once in the one and a half hours of footage?) and flamewars broke out over the number of times Harley Quinn had orgasmed (the number verged between four and ten. Given how enthusiastically vocal she was, it was near impossible to tell).

By 7:00PM EST, the lucky three thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine people who had been privy to the first screening of the video were sharing blow-by-blow details in various capacities the world over.

By 8:00PM EST, the media were running frantic headlines on every news channel open to them, whilst each station's most talented hackers attempted to track down the mob behind the video – or discovers ways in which they could rip the footage.

By 9:00PM EST, any number of opportunistic psychologists had stepped forward to analyse the precise activities that had unfolded on the monitor and how they specifically related to the dynamics of the relationship.

By 10:00PM EST, the GCPD had a team out at Arkham Asylum interrogating the staff while Barbara Gordon was screaming down the line at Dick Grayson for trying to keep information from her.

By 11:00PM EST, the news had been deemed worthy of international headlines, prompting a rewrite of three front pages, and an early-release of seven different gossip magazines, complete with blurry images hastily copied from the low-quality screen grabs people were desperately right-clicking and saving to their hard drives.

By 12:00AM EST, the appointed time of the second screening, a further twenty-thousand people across the United States, in unison with an extra seven thousand the world over, assembled in front of their computer monitors, key passes clutched hard in hands, and waited.

By 12:30AM EST, Danny and Marky had to open a new domain from which they could play the video at 6:00AM EST. They also created a MySpace page. Batman was occupied beating a corterie of people smugglers to a bloody pulp and ignored the alert signal first from Nightwing, then Robin and finally Oracle. Huntress, picking up the frequency, had asked if she might be of use and was firmly informed by Oracle that everything was in hand. She disconnected in a huff.

By 3:00AM EST, the MySpace page for Crazed Ecstasy had earned itself a friends-list of over 75,000 people. Barbara Gordon, otherwise known as Oracle, was frantically following dead leads through miles of cyberspace to track down the origin point of the websites.

At 6:00AM EST, over two hundred thousand people worldwide were awaiting the third screening and Jimbo, Danny, Marky and Enrique were toasting each other with a bottle of Jack Daniels each as they watched their bank account steadily swell.

At 7:00AM EST, The Joker was informed he was not permitted to attend breakfast in the Asylum cafeteria and was also denied access to the day's newspapers. He was not very happy about it.

At 7.30AM EST, Two-Face was lead past Joker's cell and took the opportunity to give him a double thumbs up and a leer on both sides of his face. Joker's physical therapist begged off for the day, citing the frown his patient wore as probable cause to fear for his wellbeing.

At 8:00AM EST, Doctor Jeremiah Arkham was informed the Joker had escaped. Again.


	6. Bugged

**SIX**

Barbara Gordon's upper lip twisted in disgust, the steely blue light of a wall of computer monitors reflecting off her glasses, a screen of moving text directly in front of her.

_da joker is da god of love baby!!11!! didja see the way he gave it to her! Oh man hes my HERO!_

_HUNG LIKE A MOTHERHUMPIN DONKEY MAN HAHAHA_

_i'm jelous lol_

_Im jealous of harley!! Sure looked like she was havin a good time_

_No way man she was fakin_

_no she wasn't i'm a woman and we can always tell_

_THOUGHT ID PISS MYSELF WHEN HE SAID FILL ER UP AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH_

_Im jelous of JOKER man did u c her hot bod wow how cum that sihco has a hot peace liek that_

_excuse moi did you not see his wang?_

_FIRE HER UP AND WATCH HER GO WOOOOOOOO_

_It's about more than the size jumbo the joker has CHARISMA and CONFIDENCE that's what women want not that you'd know anything about that!_

_They are some kinky sick muttafukkas_

_FUKKED HER LIKE A JACKHAMMA BABY YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH_

_Gave me some ideas lol _

_Ur a sick perve bickie_

_LOL_

Nausea sank in her stomach like a stone. Her hands shook as they hovered over the keyboard. _Not worth it, not worth it_, a voice sing-songed in the back of her mind. _It's only an argument on the Internet. It's _only_ the Internet. Playground of half-wits and the mentally defunct everywhere._

Barbara continued to be shocked that the catastrophic stupidity displayed on the Internet still managed to rouse her anger. She blamed her Father for it – the man who'd instilled such an unerringly vigorous sense of right and wrong, justice and balance. She literally could not comprehend the amorality seemingly necessary to carry out conversations like this – ones that glorified mass-murderers. It was beyond all her understanding. Her fingers twitched again and she forcefully folded them into her lap. If she said anything, she'd just be told to lighten up and then a righteous flame war would break out, leeching a great deal of unnecessary energy from her and sucking away precious hours. They weren't _condoning_ his crimes, just discussing his sexual behaviour.

It still made her sick.

As for why she was even in the chat room to begin with, for that she blamed her librarian instincts – that unending urge to obtain knowledge, to consume and absorb data and information, storing it away inside of her for easy reference or on the off chance a minute and obscure detail could prove useful.

She'd managed to trace who the website domain was being billed to – a tiny independent pornography company entitled Twilight Ecstasy, owned and operated by Messrs Daniel Leggo and Marcum Walker.

It was a two-bit operation, dealing largely in the amateur trade and Daniel and Marcum were more opportunistic than entrepreneurial – mostly, they just hosted homemade videos and gave the 'performers' a percentage of the profits. Hacking into their PlayPal (the adult-oriented alternative to PayPal) transaction history, she'd discovered they made a tidy sum overall but nothing spectacular.

They must've creamed their jocks when they got hold of the Joker and Harley Quinn's illicit encounter in the electroshock treatment room.

In fact, they were probably so busy twitching in joy it never even occurred to them that distributing a blue movie featuring one of the world's most notorious psychopaths – for a profit – might not just earn them a few extra bucks – but an entry in the Darwin Awards.

At any rate, she'd traced a current residence and passed the information along to the GCPD.

But then, guided by that obsessive-compulsion, she'd begun investigating into the two men's lives further, leading her to the chat rooms and forums they frequented, hopeful of stumbling upon some useful insight.

Really, she should've known. She felt her hands tighten into fists as she watched more crude banality unfold before her.

_whos downloading it again at midday_

_HELL YAH_

_Ooh yeah baby_

_YOU BET_

_Againandagainandagain_

_Can't get enough of that sick sweet clown love!!_

_I gotta figure a way to rip it I wanna do a frame by frame when he blows!! Awwww hell yeeeeaaaahhhh!_

A blinding stab of fury flashed behind her eyes and her hands moved of their own accord to the keyboard.

"Babs," Dick's voice broke through her trance-like rage and she whirled quickly away from the monitor, clicking the browser window shut as she did so.

"What?" she snapped into the headset.

"Whoah! Take it easy. Just wondering if we should wait a bit before telling Bruce about the Joker's escape. Let him sleep. You know he's not going to again until Joker is caught."

Barbara sighed. "Sure, Dick. Great idea. And when he wakes up and finds out the Joker is on the loose and has been for twelve hours, you can take on the task of telling him why you thought it could wait."

"Gee, is that sarcasm in your voice or is this just the usual hacker chic? Okay, we'll tell him. And I've already said I was sorry."

"I know you did." Barbara was short. She understood the reason Batman would not gracefully accept being left uninformed of his arch-enemy's escape in a way Dick could not – she shared his compulsion to be comprehensively up-to-date at all times. Knowledge was power and Batman would not tolerate even the slightest chink in his armour. He had a right to the information – just as Barbara had a right to know what was in the video, even if she didn't watch it. She still couldn't believe Dick had told Tim not to let her see it. It wasn't that she _wanted_ to see it – but she was capable of making her own choices.

"Well, then are you going to forgive me? Or do I have to drive all the way up to Gotham armed with some stupidly expensive techno-gadget to grovel at your feet?"

Barbara couldn't repress a smile at that. He'd been dropping hints about coming up for a visit for a couple of weeks now and she was keen. But he wasn't quite off the hook yet.

"Anything you could get in a store is obsolete compared to what I've already got. So make it fresh chocolate cannoli from that place on Eighth and Derwent or don't bother coming up at all. Now do something useful with that mouth for a change and keep it shut while I get Batman on the line."


	7. Spoofed

**SEVEN**

_Sunrise with Summer_ was a breakfast show that went from seven am until ten am weekday mornings and was the favoured television of choice for stay-at-home mothers, prostitutes confined indoors awaiting customers, students procrastinating before their first lecture, drug dealers recovering from the night before and the unemployed.

The host of the show, Summer Gleeson, a curvaceous strawberry blonde with an orthodontically enhanced smile and violet contact lenses, was interviewing her special guest, pop psychologist Rhoda Jeffreys on a set designed to look like the comfortable living room of a well-to-do suburban family. It even had a set of French doors at the rear of the set, leading out into a "garden" of plastic greenery.

"The relationship between these two criminal psychopaths has been researched, speculated on and debated since it first began some five years ago," Rhoda was saying in her heavy Southern twang, her manicured hands moving expressively to punctuate her words. "But it has been impossible to penetrate, largely due to the Joker's refusal to cooperate with therapists and the fact that he has largely been framed as a corrupting force on Ms Quinzel. Now, finally, we have some genuine illumination into how these two unique individuals _interact_ and _engage_ with each other."

Summer was nodding thoughtfully, the tip of a pen touched to her lips although she had nothing on her lap to write on. "Rhoda, you've lost me!" She said. "I'm not sure I understand how their sexual behaviour provides real insight into this sick relationship."

Rhoda held up a finger, pursing her lips and widening her heavily made-up eyes, looking at Summer in an "ah ah!" fashion.

"Now, Summer, there are actually several indications that this relationship, as _abnormal_ as it may be, is actually far more healthy than many relationships amongst so-called mentally sane people."

"Oh Rhoda!" Summer exclaimed, throwing the camera a disbelieving smile. The studio audience chuckled.

"Hear me out!" Rhoda laughed, her double chin wobbling. "First of all, the way any couple _engages sexually_ speaks volumes about their relationship. The ability to connect in a natural, open and _expressive _way indicates a relationship is healthy, mutually enjoyable and high functioning. A couple who fully lets go in the bedroom generally has a sophisticated and high-level of _communication_ between them." With each emphasised word, Rhoda jerked forward in her seat a little, her hands making constant little gestures at the air.

Summer had propped her chin in her hands and had an incredulous smile on her face. She flicked the camera a mischievous little glance before interrupting Rhoda once more.

"Seriously, Rhoda, what is known about the relationship is that Harley Quinn was once Joker's psychologist before she developed a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome and became his personal punching bag."

Rhoda shook her head, her hair-sprayed bouffant staying firmly in place despite the vigour of her gesture.

"Sure Summer, that's what we _know_. But – have you watched the video, Summer?"

Summer laughed as though she was embarrassed, a little blush lighting her cheeks. "Well, I may have – "

"Oh come on, don't be shy!" Rhoda sat forward in her chair, beaming a mouthful of capped teeth in a mock tease. "I've watched it!"

"Oh well, I took a peek – "

"You took a peek!"

"For research purposes only!"

Summer's studio audience was laughing along, enjoying the sight of their host squirming a little.

"Oh sure, hon-nay," Rhoda was teasing again, sitting up and wiggling in her seat as Summer threw back her head and laughed. "Just wanted to get your facts straight, huh! Like a good reporter!"

The studio audience let up a mocking cry of "whooooooo!"

"Seriously though," Rhoda steered the conversation back onto the content of the video. "The video reveals a great deal. Note, for example, that although he _initially_ says they have to be quick they end up spending just over _ninety minutes_ together."

"_Ninety_ minutes?" Summer exclaimed, "Oh my, I didn't realise – whoo!" She mock-fanned herself and the audience roared.

"Yes, ninety minutes, and not a second of those wasted I might add," Rhoda raised the part of her forehead that her pencilled eyebrows were drawn on suggestively. "It would indicate they got carried away. That the _Joker_ got carried away. Lost in the moment – interesting, when you consider the degree of control he is supposed to exert over her."

"Well, if I had a man who could keep it going for ninety minutes – " Summer began playfully and the audience cheered.

But Rhoda had assumed a serious face now, eyes intent and fixed on Summer's, mouth in a straight line. "Yet, despite this apparent loss of control and despite the escalation of aggression throughout the duration of their encounter, he is _very careful_ to not mark her on any part of her body where it might be visible to the Asylum staff." She raised her eyebrows even higher and pursed her lips together.

That seemed to strike at Summer, or perhaps they'd just reached that part of the script. She looked intrigued, her eyes widened and nodded slowly. "Really?"

"Yes. It _strongly suggests_ the violence is a necessary aspect of the relationship, one that not only heightens its intensity but that also is something they are both _consenting_ to."

"Fascinating, Rhoda!" Summer had adopted her thoughtfully interested expression, one leg crossed over the other and her arms folded in her lap.

"Of note also is the extreme playfulness which underscores the whole 'event' – 'cos hell, was this ever an event, am I right folks?" She directed this last at the audience who hooted and applauded. "For example, after he finishes performing cunnilingus on her – a remarkable development in itself, for someone who's as much a control freak as the Joker – and she's recovering from her orgasm, he hooks her up to one of the electrotherapy machines saying - what is it? "Oh, the Harley-machine's stalled! That's okay, I've got jumper cables!"" The audience's giggles were self-conscious now and slightly embarrassed though the brassy Rhoda seemed not to care. "And again, he maintained careful control of the voltage level so it was never more than a mild current – which aroused her all over again. There was a high level of trust and _implicit understanding_ occurring throughout."

Summer shook her head and threw up one hand, sitting back in her armchair. "Y'know, I would never have seen any of that without you, Rhoda! But you know, you're right, I mean, when she goes to – uh – perform fe – uh – fe – "

"Fellatio," Rhoda helpfully prompted.

"Right, yes, when that happens, he cries out – "

"_Fill 'er up_!" Both women exclaimed in unison and laughed.

"And you'll note," Rhoda said still laughing, wiping tears carefully away from her eyes with the tip of one acrylic fingernail. "that Ms Quinzel bursts out laughing when he does so. Yes, there's an _absolute_ and _definite_ level of genuine playfulness and mutual affection throughout the entire event."

"Right, Rhoda and it provides all sorts of potential for further study not just of this twisted romance but of the psyche of the Joker itself."

"I absolutely agree Summer, it's a _wonderful_ opportunity."

"Thank you so much for your time, Rhoda, and don't forget folks," Summer turned towards the camera again, "Dr Rhoda Jeffreys is the author of the best-selling book _Beat the Blues: The Contemporary Couple's Guide to Overcoming Stagnation through BDSM_, available at your local Barnes and Noble for only nineteen ninety-five. But right now we're going to go live via Satellite to Boston where noted criminal psychologist Doctor Merryl Lovelock is waiting to join us. Merryl, can you hear me?"

The screen which overlooked the "living room" set came to life, showing a prim, skinny woman in her fifties with a short blonde-grey bob and dark brown eyes in a finely lined face. Counter to Rhoda's bright pink skirt suit and yellow blouse, Doctor Lovelock wore a sedate brown wool suit and was seated in a bookshelf-lined room.

"Yes, thank you Summer, I can hear you." Her voice was deep and clipped.

"Merryl, I understand you have some theories of your own on this controversial video?" Summer's voice was absurdly light next to Merryl's rich timbre.

"I do Summer, and I just have to take the opportunity right now to correct you one thing – "

"Oh?"

" – yes, when a treating psychologist takes on the psychotic features of their patient and becomes obsessed with or for them, the correct term is actually _countertransference_, and not Stockholm Syndrome, which describes another situation altogether."

"Oh! I didn't realise! Thank you so much, Merryl. And what did you think of the observations Rhoda made on the video?"

"Well, Summer, with all due respect to Doctor Jeffreys, I do have to vehemently disagree." In further contrast to the effusive Rhoda, Merryl's hands stayed firmly folded in her lap.

"You do?"

"Yes, I saw something quite different in that video. I saw a carefully orchestrated display of control, perhaps even performed _for_ the camera."

"Merryl, this sounds intriguing, please elaborate."

"Oh yes, I intend to, Summer. It has widely been noted in the Joker's case history that sex is of very little interest to him. He's committed no sex crimes, has not historically displayed inappropriate sexual behaviour towards those treating him and has never requested pornography or observed to be masturbating. The idea that someone like Harley Quinn could suddenly prompt a genuine sexual response from him, much less affection, is not consistent with his demonstrated pathology." Merryl's clipped voice enunciated her words clearly and firmly, her tone that of a teacher informing her students.

Summer was again pulling faces for the benefit of her audience.

"But Merryl, how do you explain then the _ninety minutes_ of sexual activity between them?"

There was a titter in the audience, but they otherwise behaved themselves in keeping with the more sedate tone the show had taken.

"That's very simple, Summer. The Joker is a creature dictated by his lust for power. This may be the only true lust he knows, in fact. In driving Harleen Quinzel insane the Joker demonstrated to the world of psychological medicine that he actively and concertedly flouts the system – that he cannot and will not be controlled by it. By keeping her obsessed with him, he proves his ability to resist treatment. What he did to Harleen Quinzel was, in effect, a challenge." Merryl said this last word forcefully and Summer picked it up.

"A challenge?"

"Indeed, Summer. A threat even – if you tangle with me, _this_ is what I will do to you. Do you see what I'm saying, Summer?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I do."

"So sex too becomes a demonstration of power rather than an actual display of desire or affection. Harleen Quinzel's obsession with him is so pronounced it's been observed that even a look or a touch from him can send her into a state of arousal. It is her _need_ for him, her overwhelming lust and desire; that serves as an aphrodisiac to the Joker. He enjoys wielding this control over her, and he enjoys us watching him do it. The Joker sees the world as his stage and we as his captive audience. He demands that we acknowledge his power. He demands that Harley Quinn submit to him absolutely regardless of her own desires." Merryl's voice was firm but barely restrained, a drop of spittle collecting in the corner of her mouth as her excitement grew.

"So what do you think about her apparent – er – multiple instances of enjoyment of what he was doing to her?"

"A side-effect, if you will, of her obsession and also a developed survival strategy. She must conform to his desires or be eliminated from his concept of reality – and therefore, his life. At this stage in her obsession, such a break may prove fatal to her."

"Wow, that's intense! So you don't think the Joker was making any concerted effort to give her pleasure?"

Merryl made her first hand gesture, a dismissive wave. "It wouldn't matter if he did, she has adapted to enjoy all forms of attention from him. That is a necessary element of life with the Joker. However, I also have to state at this point I have serious doubts about the authenticity of Ms Quinzel's own emotions."

"Oh, c'mon, _now_ you're kidding!" Summer rolled her eyes at the audience.

"Not at all, Summer. I'm sure Ms Quinzel believes them to be genuine but as we now know, what she was originally seeking by persuing the Joker as a client was a means to fame and glory. She's taken it one step further - by becoming his 'girlfriend' - by proxy she now enjoys a level of fame and attention she would otherwise never have had, all due to her association with the Joker. In this manner, she acts as a leech, feeding off his infamy and fearsome reputation. It is not the Joker himself she loves, but the glamour of life by his side. Through the Joker, she has become more than what she was - she always longed to transcend the 'ordinary' and now she has. In her distorted mind, this relationship makes her extraordinary."

"So you don't agree with Rhoda's take on the mutual investment in this relationship?"

Merryl allowed a herself a small scoff. "I absolutely do not. The Joker is incapable of such a thing. He has no mercy, no compassion, no empathy and no ability to relate to the emotions of others or consider reality beyond his own gratification. Any sexual engagement he has with Harleen Quinzel is only to reaffirm his own power over her and ensure she remains enthralled. For this reason, he will see she is satisfied but ultimately her pleasure is irrelevant. His own is entirely grounded in her submission to him and our awareness of that submission. Meanwhile, Harleen Quinzel is dependent on the Joker to elevate her beyond the everyday, the ordinary and mundane; she is happy to conform to his standards in order to accomplish this and sustain her position of fame. Really, a classic, and - if it were not so extreme and _perverse_ an example - I might even go so far as to say _ordinary_ transference-countertransference dynamic. Unconscious and conscious projection and wish fulfillment on the part of the participants take the place of any real rapport. They do not connect with each other, only their ideas of each other."

"Phew! Heavy stuff!' Summer feigned wiping sweat from her brow and turned to face the cameras once more. "And on that mouthful, it's time we went to commercial! But don't go away, because when we come back Rhoda and Merryl will be going head to head on the whole "Daddy" issue – you won't wanna miss that!"

--

_Who do you agree with?_

_Thanks to the beautiful zhinxy for the 'countertransference' term and one of Merryl's fabulous lines - love having pals who have psych degrees! :)_

_And yeah, I know Summer is from the animated series, but I love her!_


	8. Flamed

**EIGHT**

"I already know," Batman picked up Oracle's call, the calmness of his tone belied by the steel lining it. Oracle's face lit up one of the corner screens that partially comprised the sophisticated computer that sat before him. Nightwing and Robin were connected via radio on the call.

"I figured you would by now," Oracle's voice was clear as a bell through the high-tech audio system he had installed. "We all tried to contact you, but you weren't picking up."

"I know." He didn't need to tell them he'd been busy... elsewhere. They would understand. "Arkham reported GCPD Joker as escaped at approximately eight thirty am. A full half-hour after they realised he was gone."

"Probably hoping they'd find him on the grounds somewhere," Nightwing put in. "I don't know why they bother."

Batman's lip twitched, his eyes narrowing a little as he watched _Sunrise with Summer_ playing out on another of the screens. The quack, Rhoda Jeffreys, had just said something particularly racy – if the dim sound of the audience cheering through the muted soundtrack was anything to go by.

"You're lucky you've missed the madness, Batman," Robin this time. "The internet has been going spastic. Well, more so than usual. It's completely gross."

"Luck's got nothing to do with it," he responded shortly. Batman was sitting in the Bat-Cave, his cowl and cape dumped in a dark pile on one end of the computer board. His chin was grizzled and sweat was still coolly drying beneath the supple confines of his armour. He'd heard about the raunchy movie, the hysterical response and the Joker's subsequent escape over the radio in the Batmobile on his way back to the cave. Upon entering the cave, he'd immediately ploughed straight into investigation, disregarding the tray Alfred had brought down with him and Alfred himself, prompting the faithful friend to acidly remark that: "What a relief to know you've survived another night without serious harm. The day you come back and greet me with a Good Morning and fall-to like any other soul hungry from an evening of work is the day I know you're beyond anything the good Doctor Thompkins could do for you and shall phone the nearest Priest accordingly."

Batman had obliged the old man's wicked sense of humour by giving him a darkly unamused look, not missing the way his Butler's lips curved slightly upwards as he'd turned away.

"Batman, I've managed to trace the origin of the video," Oracle picked up the conversation in her briskest 'down to business' tone. "Daniel Leggo, loosely named CEO of Twilight Ecstasy, the porn company that's been distributing the video, has a cousin by the name of James Davidson, who recently took up a post at Arkham Asylum."

"Do we have an address?" Batman watched, a muscle moving in his jaw, as Doctor Jeffreys and Doctor Lovelock become involved in a heated via-satellite debate on whether or not Harley calling Joker "Daddy" reflected any genuine Oedipal compulsions on her part.

"Yeah," Oracle's face was intent, illuminated in a silverly glow from the light her monitor threw. "Last known residence Apartment 2R, Meredith Building on Twenty-Third over in Newtown."

"Robin?"

"I can check it out. What about you?"

"I'll visit the pornographers," His voice was grim, boding ill for the men at the bottom of this production of awe-inspiring stupidity. "Any other leads on where they might be otherwise?"

"I'm on it." Oracle pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Be quick. If you've traced them, then Joker has too."

Barbara's voice was crisp: "I'm not sure I like you comparing my skills to the Joker's."

Batman's expression did not change, though he did flicker his eyes towards the camera that relayed an image of him to Oracle's computer. He 'held the gaze' for a moment before transferring his attention back to _Sunrise_. Oracle scowled and rolled her eyes.

"Batman, you think Joker's gonna go after these guys?" Robin sounded genuinely confused. "I mean, are we sure he isn't the one behind this? Since when has he been camera shy?

"No." Batman's voice was brusque and certain. "This wasn't a performance. This was his... personal life. And few things infuriate him more than the fact that he has one."

There was silence for a long moment. Then Robin spoke again:

"You... watched it?"

Batman pressed his lips together. " ... I had to be sure."

This time the silence was deafening. Batman sat very still, both hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly, waiting out the shocked absence of breathing that had seemed to overtake his allies.

Then, the sound of a muffled snicker crackled in his ear.

Oracle swept a hand up through her red hair. "_Tim!"_

"Sorry," Robin said hastily. "It's just I'm – I'm honestly not sure whether to laugh or throw up. You _watched it_? The whole thing?"

Batman felt his jaw tighten, his lips press harder together. "It was necessary, if I was to have any sense of what his next actions might be. There were two possibilities: one, he released the video to distract attention from the purpose of his escape; or – "

" - Or he wanted the world to see what a _stud_ he is," Nightwing dared with heavy sarcasm.

Batman paused. Batman had many different ways of falling silent and those closest to him had learned to recognise the implied message in them all. Nightwing abruptly shut up and Batman continued:

"- Or two, the tape was recorded without his knowledge, prompting his escape. After viewing it, I'm certain it was the latter."

"And you're sure he wouldn't take some sort of perverse pleasure in this? I mean, come on Bruce, the guy's the original egomaniac and the world's going crazy over it," Nightwing reasonably pointed out.

Batman shook his head and his voice when he next spoke was sharply pointed, as though he couldn't believe Nightwing didn't understand:

"I'm certain. First and foremost, it wasn't his idea. Secondly, neither of them particularly looked their best. Thirdly, this is Harley Quinn. She's his and his alone. On all levels, this situation is entirely beyond Joker's control and there's no way he would be able to tolerate that. Finally, the emotions in that video – whatever you believe of them – were unrestrained and uncalculated. A great number of people have just seen the Joker in a display of genuine release. He'd find it unbearable."

Another short silence followed. Then:

"_Release? _Did you just make a _pun?" _Robin's voice was amusedly bewildered.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong," Nightwing's voice came softly over the radio while Robin continued to sputter.

"Did it rub off on you or something? I mean, the _whole_ ninety minutes? Man, Dick only made it through the first five! What the heck kinda masochist are you, Bruce?"

Oracle had her fingertips pressed to her temple and was slowly shaking her head back and forth. Batman abruptly stood and strode over to his cape and cowl.

"The lives of three men – and potentially more – are in danger." He said crisply, tugging the cowl down over his head. "I intend to do my job and attempt to prevent their murder. If the rest of you are inclined to join in, then I would presume you know what to do by now."

With that he disconnected the call.

_--_

_Oh Batman, I love you but you are SO HARD to write. Hopefully I have done The Dork Knight justice._

_My huge thanks once again extended to zhinxy, who is such a marvellously fantastic consultant on all things Bat and Mistah J. She's a fangirl after my own heart and she really helped flesh out some of the ideas in this chapter as well as provide dialogue for an exchange between Bats and Tim._

_Finally, on the previous chapter – ooh I'm so pleased so many people thought both Merryl and Rhoda's theories hold weight. I think so too. You can't reliably pin it down as one or the other, it's both and it's constantly shifting as well. Mostly I think the relationship is so complex it simply defines normal definitions and comparisons. But there's definitely a mixture of all those elements in there. _


	9. Screwed

**NINE**

Billy Cameron checked the countdown timer in his browser window for the thirty-second time in the last three minutes and groaned. Still two minutes to go!

Billy's parents had told him the credit card was only for emergency use while they were visiting Hawaii on their Second Honeymoon. But the website had assured him he would it would be billed as "VisionAmerica" which sounded vaguely charity-like and – it was only fifteen bucks after all. What was fifteen bucks in the grand scheme of things? One dollar for every year Billy had lived thus far. Like a birthday bonus. His Dad probably wouldn't even notice.

He shut down Limewire, all other browser windows and exited Trillian. He didn't want any possible distractions or interferences. His knee jiggled, foot tattooing a frenetic rhythm on the carpet of his room. Wait til he told Adrian and Ian!

A cluster of cries rose outside his window; the Mills' kids across the street. He lurched out of his computer chair and yanked at his blinds. They slid down with a hiss, clattering against the window frame. His hand shook as he picked up his Coke can and took a sip. In his nervous excitement the favoured beverage tasted sickly and he grimaced and put it back down on the desk, pushing it away from him.

Suddenly, the screen on his monitor went black and he gulped and leant forward, his throat dry.

A moment later, a twanging musical beat rose, pounding and thrumming like the – well, kinda like the soundtrack to that low-budget porn movie made way back in the seventies that Ian and he had found up the back of Ian's Dad's closet that time they'd been looking for his gun. The screen was filled with the image of a computer generated red curtain over which a scrolling title appeared:

_Lancing in Lovers' Lane_

Billy was confused. This didn't really look anything like the blurry black and white pictures he'd seen on the news that morning.

Suddenly the curtain "rose", revealing a poorly constructed alley way set, clearly comprising of cardboard backdrops and an ordinary floor painted to look like brick. The set was dim-lit, so that all that could be seen of the single figure standing against the alley "wall" was his silhouette – one leg stuck straight out in front of him, the other bent at the knee, foot against the wall. His hips were angled forward and his head was bowed, a cap pulled down low.

Billy frowned a little. He hoped this wasn't going to be any queer crap. He wanted to see the Joker sticking it to his hot little girlfriend, like any normal red-blooded heterosexual teenaged male.

The lights rose on the set, the tall, lanky figure pushed himself off the wall and swept off his cap in one smooth motion, then leaned into the camera, leering.

Billy leapt back in his chair. He could swear that deathly grin was fixed straight on him.

"Naughty, naughty!" The Joker carolled, "Does Mommy and Daddy know what you're doing?"

Billy managed to maintain control of his bladder.

The Joker threw back his head and laughed, a sound that made Billy's skin crawl the same way it did when Mrs Henderson dragged her fingernails across the old chalkboard in room 21B.

"Seriously, folks, I've always said that good fences make good neighbours, but in this town a fella needs to invest in reinforced concrete if he expects to kick back and cut loose without a peeping tom cramping his style!"

The Joker was taller and skinnier than Billy had realised, his lean body moving with a feline grace as he gestured and postured before the camera. His skin was white, as white as the refrigerator, and his hair was vivid as grass. Billy had always figured he'd look more like an albino, with a faded, washed out green in his hair, streaked blonde in parts – like when Adrian had coloured his hair that time.

"I gotta admit – at first I was a trifle miffed. I mean, when you consider all the trouble I go to for you lot – all the blood, sweat and tears I invest in devising the most _original_, the most dazzling and the most _brilliant_ of schemes to entertain you all – and the only thing that seems to whip you up into a frothing frenzy is the opportunity of watching me indulge in a pleasurable but altogether common diversionary activity – " The Joker took in a deep breath, his face suddenly contorting into an exaggerated expression of woe. Billy was captivated; he'd always understood that the Joker's face was fixed into a permanent grin. On the contrary, the demented clown's face was feverishly expressive. " – but then it hit me! I mean, in an unstable and ever-changing market, what is the one thing the masses will reliably flock to? What is that rule thirty-four all about? What do young aspiring actresses with stars in their eyes and dreams in their hearts take a Greyhound bus from Hicksville to L.A. to do just once or twice until they've made their name? Well, you're watching so I guess you know! Heh!"

Billy couldn't guess what was coming. He couldn't begin to imagine what the Joker had in store. All he could do was sit in front of his computer, one hand gripping the mouse tight, his jaw hanging open in transfixed fascination.

The Joker placed a hand upon his chest and made a mocking little bow. "And who am I to deny my public what they want? Many things be I, but most of all a showman, a consummate professional whose heart rests easy so long as he knows he has _gratified_ his audience." He leaned in close to the camera once again, dropping a sleazy wink. "I'm sure you could gratify yourselves, but it's always more fun in the hands of others, eh?"

Billy almost wanted to laugh. The Joker really was kinda – funny. And he had a compelling charisma that made it impossible to look away from him.

Joker leaned back again, revealing the 'alley-way' behind him once more. "But I didn't want to just trot out the same old stuff. No, not I – you know how much I hate to repeat a joke, after all. And the youth of today, always needing _new_ and fresh _stim-u-la-SHON_! New sets, new scenes, new stories – and new faces! And what's a leading man without his leading ladies? On that note – Annie!" The Joker uncurled a long hand and beckoned with delicate fingers offstage. "Don't be shy sweetheart – they're all waiting to see your pretty face."

Billy's jaw dropped open as a woman sauntered onto the set. Her shining red hair was teased into a high, cascading wave down her back and her tanned skin shone beneath the set lights. Her lids were painted purple and her Botox-enhanced mouth was lacquered China-red. Her surgically altered EE cup breasts were barely constrained by the Groucho Marx masks she wore over them and on her pubis a pair of plastic dolls' eyes had been pasted, the pupils jiggling about as her hips swung from side to side. Below them, a long, thick, fully erect green dildo with a smiley mouth painted on its end protruded from the pink vinyl strap-on belt she wore. Her legs were clad in striped, rainbow socks and she wore eight-inch spiked red stilettos on her feet.

The Joker leered at the woman who first pouted smoulderingly then, starting a little as though she'd just remembered a direction, beamed at the camera. Billy was confused. On the one hand, the presence of an AAA babe like that might mean the action was really going to pick up. On the other – she was dressed kinda weird. The Joker sure was as kooky as they said.

Joker dropped a hand around Annie's shoulder and kneaded it, grinning into the camera.

"Isn't she a hottie, folks? Ladies and Gentlemen of the World, meet the Adult Industry Best New-Comer of the Year for the past _three_ years running, Miss Annie Maul! Annie, didn't I tell you to stick with your Uncle Joker and your face would reach the living rooms of the world?"

Annie smiled a little wider, her eyes glassy and her pupils pinned as she lifted a hand to toy with the buttons on Joker's trousers. "I knew my Uncle Joker wouldn't lie to me."

Joker chuckled and gripped her fumbling hand in his own, arresting her from going any further. "You're such a frisky little minx," he teased, leering down into her face. "Always getting ahead of yourself. I wonder, now, how a bright little thing like you ended up in Internet porn? I'm sure you were the _sweetest_ little girl who set the _prettiest_ fires and killed the _cutest _little pets. You could have done _so much more_ with your life."

Annie cooed, turning side on to the camera and pressing her toned and mostly naked body up hard against the Joker's who ever so slightly recoiled. "You really mean that?" She simpered and he chuckled and dropped a hand to her bottom, giving it a hard squeeze.

"I've got high hopes for you, my dear, really very high hopes. I think this is going to be your big break, you know! But first, you have to pass the audition!"

"Hit me, baby!" Annie breathed and Joker turned a 'aw shucks' look to the camera, shrugging with a shit-kicking smirk up one side of his face.

"They say to wait until she says you may…" The Joker stretched out one arm, his palm held out flat, then balled it into a fist. Billy set back in the chair, a lump in this throat. He didn't want to see _that_ kinda thing.

But a swift gesture later and the Joker unfurled his hand once more, revealing what appeared to be a small hand-held buzzer. He offered it to Annie with a gracious sweep of his arm then gestured to the camera.

"And don't forget, darling, _they're_ the judges tonight." He threw the briefest of sinister glances at the camera before stepping off to the side and leaning on a plastic garbage bin, one ankle crossed over the other and hips jutted forward.

Annie giggled and clutched the buzzer in her hand before throwing the Joker a slightly uncertain look. He was grinning widely and without changing expression, inclined his head upwards in expectation. Annie obeyed the cue and turned her face to the camera, smiling. She lifted the buzzer and slid its ring over her middle finger, then lifted her hand to her mouth and slid the digit between her bright red lips, sucking it in to the last knuckle. As she began to fellate her finger, the Joker chuckled, watching her with appraising eyes and Billy began to feel really uneasy. There was something about the guy that made the whole act seem kinda – creepy. Billy had seen hardcore pornography more than once, but the Joker made this simple scene seem more lewd than any of that stuff.

Annie moaned, pulled her wet finger out of her mouth and trailed it down her chin and neck, pumping her hips slightly as she gazed into the camera with a teasing little smile on her lips. She gently smoothed the hand buzzer over the curve of her enormous breasts, gasping as though the hard plastic elicited delightful sensations, then dipped her hand lower, skimming it over the flesh of her taut stomach, right down to her groin, where she rubbed it on the belt, just above the spot the dildo protruded.

Then she pressed down hard and the novelty vibrated, loudly buzzing and Annie threw back her head and moaned.

Another moan rose up to join in hers. But this moan sounded strained and tormented. The Joker's grin widened as he watched the show, as Annie continued to press the buzzer against her groin, the absurd sound of it ringing through Billy's tinny speakers. The pained moan rose to a high whine and then, to Billy's dismay, a young man crawled onto the set.

"Ooooooh, you call and he will come!" The Joker sang, "he can't resist your siren song, Annie darling!"

The guy, whoever he was, looked in bad shape. His arms were twisted behind him and bound together with rope from the elbow down. There was some sort of wiring connected to different parts of the skin of his face and neck by soft pads and although he was fully clothed, Billy could see the wiring continued beneath them. Every time Annie pressed the buzzer into her skin, the young guy bucked, convulsed and moaned and with growing horror, Billy realised the buzzer must've been administering some kind of shock.

"Folks, welcome our budding young star, Marky!" Joker lifted a hand up and flourished, smiling madly. "Marky was the young genius behind the fabulous website you're viewing this very special, one-time only exclusive on. He was very careful to make sure all you naughty little piraters can't make copies and infringe on our artistic rights – after all, if you think I put blood, sweat and tears into my other little performances you won't _believe_ what body fluids got thrown into this! Don't worry though – in six hours you'll get another _very_ special, extra-exclusive one-time only treat starring yours truly. Marky's been good enough to see to that for me, haven't you Marky honey?"

Annie paused in her masturbation and Marky stopped his agonised convulsing, opening swollen and teary eyes to gaze up fearfully.

"Puh-puh-puhlease…" he moaned, slowly writhing on the stone floor. "Puh-please – I'm so-sorry."

"Tsk!" Joker pushed off the garbage bin and stood with his hands on his hips. "Poor lad is camera shy! Now don't worry, Marky, it's like I said to you earlier – you've always been a behind-the-camera kinda guy, but I see _real _potential in you. You've got leading man quality, I've a knack for espying these things and I espy them in you." Joker turned to the camera and held out his arms. "Marky and me were talkin' shop a few hours ago and I said to him, I said: 'Marky, m'boy, you've _got_ something! I know a great doctor you should see!' Heh! Ba dum dum!" The Joker slapped a hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them wide again and lifting his face to the camera once more. "Excuse me. But seriously, folks, I think you'll agree – Marky here has a certain _je ne ses quai_, a special allure that just begs to be captured and preserved on celluloid."

"Man, puh-puh-please don't – " Marky whined, curled into a little ball on his side at Annie Maul's and the Joker's feet. "You – you – you can have the muh-money. A-all of it."

"_Money_!" The Joker shrieked, his entire manner changing so abruptly it was akin to possession. He hunched forward, hands in fists by his sides, a terrifying scowl distorting his features, his eyes bulging and wild. Billy leapt up and backwards, knocking his chair to the ground. All of a sudden, in one sickening hit, he got it. This wasn't a game. This was _The Joker_.

"You think this is about _money_?" The Joker shrieked again and even the seasoned Annie was trembling. But a second later Joker twitched and seemed to calm down, straightening up again and smoothing one hand back through his hair, then adjusting his suit jacket primly.

"Well, I think we've kept our panting audience waiting long enough. Marky, honey, time to put your mouth where the money is! Annie?"

The slightly uneasy Annie hastily began pressing the buzzer once more, although her performance was perhaps not quite as convincing, given that she kept darting anxious little glances towards the Joker, who watched the proceedings with savage glee, a cheek-splitting smile on his face. Marky jerked and twitched and Joker clapped his hands impatiently.

"Come on, come on, show us what you're made of!" He snapped and Marky struggled up to his knees. "Just do what comes naturally!" Joker counselled him airily with an expressive flick of his arms.

Annie paused in her buzzing and Marky panted, sobbing, lifting despairing eyes to the camera. Billy's own breath was coming in anxious, sharp gasps as he stood uneasily in front of his computer monitor. He should turn it off. He didn't want to see this. Didn't want to know what was going to happen.

Yet somehow he just couldn't bring himself to move away.

Joker tapped his Cuban heel sharply against the stone and Marky dragged himself towards Annie, coming into line with the tip of the ridiculously oversized green dildo she wore. Still snivelling, tears and mucous streaming down his face, Marky squeezed his eyes shut and forced his mouth open, bending forward to take the end of the dildo in his mouth.

"Oops, little premature there, Marky!" Joker screeched in glee as Marky hesitated, the tip of the dildo between his lips, his frightened, red eyes darting nervously to the Joker who looked at the camera and sighed, shaking his head. "Boys! They just wanna cut straight to the climax, always forgettin' if you blow too hard – " and the Joker wound one arm right back, pivoting on a leg, " – you blow too soon!" He brought his arm whipping around, his hand landing with a terrific smack on Annie's bare bottom.

She shrieked, jumped in surprise and Marky jerked back as a long, thin stick shot out the end of the dildo.

It quivered for a moment, then a small bright red flag unfurled, "BANG" printed on it in bold black letters.

Billy released a breath he didn't realise he was holding in unison with Marky, whose lower lip trembled in gratitude.

Joker grinned and thrust one leg forward, hand on his hip. "Darn! Didn't get the money-shot in the can! We're gonna haveta do another take! Marky, I know we didn't discuss this before the show, but market demand means if you wanna make it, you gotta swallow."

Marky's face fell in confusion, his brows creasing together. "Wha - ?" He stuttered.

The flag fell out of the dildo and Annie and Marky both swivelled their heads to look at it.

There was a swishing sound, followed by a sickening thunk as a thick blade burst from the end of the dildo, slamming meatily into Marky's throat, sending a spray of blood across the stage, spattering the camera lens.

Billy heaved and ran, stumbling over himself as he hurtled to the bathroom, the sound of the Joker's delirious laughter shrieking out of his computer speakers.

As he hurled into the toilet, the voice of the madman filtered in from his bedroom, almost drowned out by Annie's horrified screams:

"Hopefully we delivered to _all_ your sordid expectations, folks. But if that wasn't enough to whet your insatiable appetites, rest assured I've got plenty more _bang_ for your _buck_ in store! Join us again in six hours time for another blow-by-blow triple-x exclusive feature starring the man you just couldn't help turning on and who doesn't want to get off – ME!"

_--_

_Hrm, Mistah J enters the mix and all of a sudden the chapters triple in length… what an egotist._

_At this point I have to stop and say zhinxy is basically a co-author now. I went into this fic knowing what I wanted the basic set up to be and how Mistah J would handle it. I knew I wanted him to parody porn movies for his murders, and that one of them would involve 'deep-throating' a bladed weapon. But zhinxy, oh wow, she has just been there by my side for this chapter, kindly allowing me to run paragraphs by her as I wrote them and making the most insanely awesome suggestions, helping me to refine the ideas. This chapter was a real team effort and I think it came out a great deal stronger for what she contributed. I'm really grateful and appreciative she shares her fabulous bat-brain with me and gives me new things to think about. She also concocted the idea for Annie Maul – I wouldn't have considered a third party for this but I love how it turned out!_

_Plus she is as just as big a Joker and JokerxHarley fangirl as I am and that's an enormous pleasure!_

_Thanks zhinxy, you rock my world!!_


	10. Smashed

**TEN**

Doctor Leland was perturbed.

Something was wrong when Harley Quinn refused to leave her cell.

Harley was usually up fifteen minutes before the alarm, eager and waiting on her neatly made cot. She would spend shower time thoroughly scrubbing every inch of her body and singing cheerfully at the top of her lungs before getting dressed for breakfast, which she spent cramming her mouth full and talking at the top of her lungs to whoever was closest by that she particularly favoured, spraying crumbs everywhere. In the instances the Joker was there, this ritual was adapted to feeding him and stroking his hair while _he_ talked at the top of _his_ lungs before hastily gobbling a few mouthfuls when the finishing bell rang. The rest of her day was spent as much out of her cell as possible; whether in the recreation room, in the gym, in some sort of 'constructive activity' like gardening, or in therapy. By the time the nine o'clock pm lights out bell had rung, Harley was already in bed, snoring loudly, worn out from the day's exertion.

That day, she'd been told in piecemeal reports, had begun as normal. Harley had been awaiting the warden for shower time as she always was. The warden had greeted her with a curiously strained expression, her eyes faintly boggling. Earlier that morning, the warden had learned why Harley had seemed particularly cheerful the last couple of days. Given the girl's usual state of hyperactive merriment she had ultimately dismissed it as her imagination. But now all had been revealed – literally.

The warden could barely suppress the twitching of her mouth when she slid her card in the security lock to let the irrepressible Miss Quinn out for her shower. Harley had noticed, and given her a bemused smile and the warden had glanced away, unable to look at her inmate without a vivid image of the girl's wide mouth sliding down the length of the Joker's erect member flooding her mind. Doctor Leland had glowered in response to the warden's smothered giggles as she related this observation, but the warden had remained unabashed. Female guards as tough as her were thin on the ground so the female security at Arkham were decidedly more liberal in their conduct with their superiors.

News travelled fast in Arkham. Guards had turned away with poorly concealed smiles, smothered giggles and exchanged little glances with each other as Harley passed them by, growing more confused with each step. When she stepped naked into the shower, a room full of crazed female heads turned as one to travel up and down the nude body they saw every day, bearing heretofore mysterious bruises they all now knew the cause of.

Depending on how cognizant, how medicated, how focused and how bold, they either snickered, stared, gaped, gawked or giggled.

A particularly deranged woman who'd killed and eaten three husbands before being caught was the first to point directly at Harley, throw back her head and roar with laughter.

She had set everyone else off.

Harley Quinn had stood naked in the steam-filled tiled recess, blinking confusedly as a dozen-odd female lunatics pointed and laughed at her. The guards, meanwhile, had peeked around the door to watch the show, not quite joining in the humiliation, but not moving to stop it either.

Harley had waited a few seconds under the deluge of laughter, before self-consciously crossing her arms over her breasts then blushing and dropping one hand over her groin, wiggling to ensure all her unmentionables were concealed.

Then she had scampered off to a corner where Ivy leant up against the tiles, her head tipped back under a hot spray of water.

"Red!" She had squeaked, her arms still covering her body, "have I got somethin' in my teeth?"

Poison Ivy had not shifted her head or even opened her eyes, but her lips lifted in a little curving smile.

"I don't remember spinach being on the menu last night, Harl," she had said in a slyly sardonic

voice. "You must've been midnight snacking."

Harley's eyes had boggled and she had glanced back nervously at the room of women who continued to snicker and ogle her. Abruptly she had remembered her bottom was now exposed to them and whipped one hand around to her back, covering the crevice.

"What?" She had squealed. "I don't get it!"

Ivy had pushed herself off the wall and turned around to face it, lifting her arms up through her drenched red locks of hair, still smiling.

"Those gears of yours running smoothly now, Harls?"

Harley went white. "What?"

Ivy had sighed and finally opened her eyes, having almost immediately lost interest in the tease.  
"There was a video camera in the electroshock therapy room. One of the staff distributed it on the Internet. As of right now, almost one million people worldwide have seen you beg the Joker to 'grind your gears so hard you shoot sparks' -" Ivy had paused and flicked a distasteful look over her friend, " - er 'Daddy'."

Harley had stood, modesty forgotten, with her arms hanging limply by her sides, her pigtails steadily plastering down over her head under the water, and stared at Ivy with wide eyes and a tiny, scrunched up mouth.

Then she had turned and, followed by the hoots and hollers of Arkham's female contingency, went straight to the warden and quietly requested to be taken back to her cell.

And there she had stayed, tucked into the far corner of her cot, pressed up against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees. She had refused to come out for meals - which she usually loved - or for recreation time - which she usually eagerly anticipated with barely restrained excitement. She even refused to go to the gym, where she usually spent two hours every day circuit training while exclaiming to herself "oh yeah!", "work it" and "feel the burn!"

The inmates and guards who had passed her cell could rarely resist peeking in with curious and amused stares and every time they did, Harley buried her head in her lap and cringed.

Personally, Leland was furious and not at Harley. She considered the non-consensual release of such materials to be tantamount to rape on a global scale and deeply resented the blow to her patient's already fragile ego and psyche with this humiliation. She was determined to personally discover who had released the tape and see to it that they were fired in as much disgrace as she could heap on them. If Harley was up to it, she also planned to encourage the girl to consider litigation. It could ultimately work as a boost to her self-respect.

In the meantime, Leland had decided that it wasn't going to get any better any time soon and it was therefore all the more compelling a reason for Harley's usual three o'clock therapy session to carry on. She would be in need of an open ear.

Having been confined to her cell the whole day, Harley was unaware of the Joker's escape or the subsequent murder of the young man supposedly involved in the whole affair and Leland wanted to keep it that way. She knew her patient well enough to know that there was a storm brewing within Harley Quinn in the wake of this sordid event and Leland feared that hearing about what would be interpreted as an act of 'defending her honour' could cause it to break.

And she really thought she'd been making some progress with Harley.

But then again, if that were true, the little incident would never have happened to begin with.

As she left her office to move downstairs to the therapy room where she usually counselled Quinzel, Doctor Joan Leland had to reluctantly concede that so long as the Joker was anywhere within the vicinity, Harley's ability to commit to therapy was seriously compromised. The clown would never permit his slavishly loyal "pet" to rebuild a life of her own.

The elevator hummed and the ancient doors slid open with a groan and as she stepped from them, at the opposite end of the corridor, she saw Harley being led, her arms in cuffs and a female guard on either side.

Despite herself, Leland's heart twinged for the girl. Harley usually bounced and skipped her way down the corridor, smiling at everyone she passed. Now she dragged her feet, her head bowed over far enough her chin was practically on her chest, and her mouth was pulled down at the corners. Her shoulders were hunched up and she cringed at every person who passed her by, all too aware of the little looks and smirks that were directed her way.

Leland glared at a couple of nurses who were elbowing each other as she drew up to the therapy room, retrieving her security key from her pocket. Harley was clearly distraught, unable to lift her head even to acknowledge her Doctor, making herself as small and unnoticeable as she possibly could.

Unfortunately for her, she was now the number one focal point of any room she entered.

In a moment of spectacularly bad timing, two male guards exited one of the therapy rooms, having just secured Jonathon Crane within for his afternoon appointment. Leland frowned anxiously as they turned and saw Harley approaching from the opposite direction, seeming to shrink even more as she heard the timbre of their deeper voices.

As Harley and her security walked past them, Leland saw one sharply elbow the other and caught a snatch of the cruel whisper: "… cuffs match her collar…"

Oh no.

Harley came to a dead halt, her head snapping up and her eyes widening to circles of red-tinged fury. Her lips bared in a snarl, revealing a mouthful of white teeth and in the next instant, Harley had silently and swiftly pounced on the guard, her manacled hands grabbing him tight by the collar of his shirt and slamming his head hard into the reinforced concrete walls.

Pandemonium broke out. The guard's buddy shrieked and panicked, Harley's guards screamed code red into their walkie-talkies, and Doctor Leland swift retreated, pressing herself up against the far wall, hand rising up to claw at her head in dismay, watching as Harley yanked back on the hapless guard's neck and slammed him forehead first into the concrete again, blood spattering red on the dull grey like a splash of acrylic paint.

The guard's head lolled sickeningly as Harley's guards pounced on her, tearing her off and taking to her with their billy clubs. She calmly sat down on the ground and lifted her arms up over her head and they abruptly stopped, confused. Then they began to shout at her in an effort to intimidate, heedless of the fact she was again as passive as when they had been leading her through. The guard's buddy shook his friend by the shoulders while the nurses screamed at him to move away, while all around them doors slammed open and people dashed about, drawn by the sudden explosion of noise.

In amidst all that cacophony, neither Harley nor the guard she had just murdered with her bare hands had made a single sound.

But Doctor Leland noticed, as she sank to the floor with trembling knees, that Harley's head was no longer bowed as she sat, cross-legged, surrounded by the dead guard, frantic nurses, frightened guards and horrified doctors. Instead her chin was lifted high and she stared calmly ahead of her with a tiny smile on her mouth.

--

_My thanks again to my awesome consultant zhinxy, who continues to provide great advice and insight._

_Additionally, if you are Joker & Harley fans, I run an archive here called "Crazy for You". It is not categorised in the comics section as I wanted the ability to add fics from other Batman categories too, therefore you can't see it in the Comics Batman Communities list. Please go to my profile and scroll down to my Communities to see it, it's got a vast amount of awesome fic by many different authors!_


	11. Phished

ELEVEN

**ELEVEN**

"Batman?"

The vigilante straightened up in Danny's living room and touched a hand to his ear.

"I'm here, Robin."

"Davidson's place is clean. Well, in a matter of speaking. No clues, I mean. Looks like he hasn't been here for a couple of days in fact, if the half-finished burger in the fridge is anything to go by."

Batman resisted asking him if he was sure. Robin had proved over the few years he'd worked with Batman that he was careful and vigilant. Once upon a time, Batman may not only have demanded to know if Robin was absolutely sure, but may very well have gone to the premises himself to conduct his own sweep.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Robin. It was just that he liked to be sure himself.

"I'd say he's been with his cousin since he took the tape."

"Anything there?"

"Plenty." The Dark Knight's voice was grim.

Half-eaten pizzas lay cold in their boxes, strewn on the coffee table. On the scratched linoleum of the kitchenette, a bottle of Jack Daniels had smashed, shards of glass lying scattered in the brown liquid. Another had been dropped near the window, its contents soaked into the carpet.

There were signs of a struggle. Objects had clearly been thrown, hit the wall near the door and fallen to the carpet. Batman had already conducted a thorough sweep of the place and was now focusing on the fine details.

"The Joker's been here," Batman said over the radio. "And it wasn't just Daniel and James he picked up. From the looks of things, there were two other men involved. They tried to fight him off – they threw a lamp, several cushions and a small magazine rack at the door when he entered."

"Yeah, I bet that did them a world of good against a man who's survived explosions, gun shots, electrocution and being hit by a truck," Nightwing came on the line, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Not to mention he would've had hired goons," Batman finished, moving away from the piles of dirty magazines and take away containers in the centre of the room to beam an ultraviolet flashlight over the wall. "Lots of high tech equipment here – flat screen, Wii, major stereo system – all of it up against the wall. Except for one blank stretch. Carpet beneath it shows a large, clean rectangular space. Joker must've had their computer equipment transferred with them."

"Well, we knew he wouldn't make it easy for us," Robin said dryly. "I'm heading over to Oracle's now. We can do some further searching, see if the cousins owned any other property…"

"He won't make it that easy either, Robin," Batman said shortly.

"You don't know what it could lead us to, Batman!" Robin said cheerily. "Anything else?"

Batman grimaced, his mouth twisting up as he stepped over the carpet to the entertainment unit. "Yes. Vast quantities of x-rated porn."

"Well, at least they're committed," Nightwing said with heavy sardony. "Hey, where is Oracle?"

"Her father phoned," Batman replied curtly. "She'll be back online once she's finished with him."

"I take it you're updated on the current situation, Robin?"

"Just the bare facts, but you'll forgive me if I haven't watched the murder footage personally."

"Well, that's not the latest," Nightwing continued. "I just got notification over the police radio Joker went live with the second murder. Some kid Joker was calling 'Enrique' did a "bukkake blow out" – "

"Ewww!" Robin's voice crackled over the transmitter.

" – It was acid." Nightwing finished.

"Ewwwww!" Robin said again, his voice dark with disgust.

"The same girl was involved too, done up like a geisha. She wasn't looking real happy about it, apparently, but Joker seems to have her pretty heavily doped up. But worse than that is, this time, three million people worldwide tuned in to watch the Joker melt this kid's face off. Even though the reports on the first murder went international within ten minutes of it happening."

"Morbid curiosity," Robin said darkly.

"Morbid enough to fork over the fifteen bucks," Nightwing's voice was clipped.

Batman's jaw tightened and he tucked away the tweezers he was using to carefully turn the pages of a much-read magazine lying on the kitchen counter. He spun on his heel and strode through the apartment, swinging through the window out onto the fire escape, his powerful arms hauling him up to the roof. He could've used his grappling hook but right then he preferred the pull and burn in his muscles.

"Leggo rents a small studio over in Chinatown. I'm going to check it out as a precaution. When you can get Oracle on the line, she'll need to investigate this Enrique and the porn performer Joker's using. Stage name Annie Maul. Got it?"

"Sure thing, Batman..." Nightwing began.

"Wait – " Robin interrupted. "Annie Maul? Annie Maul…"

"Yes, Robin?"

"Yeah, yeah – Annie. She's done a lot of pictorials for _Bangers and Mash_ and – wasn't she the October Surprise on Cum Undone dot com - and... Oh! _Wait_, I think..." Robin suddenly noticed the absolute silence that had descended over the transmitters. "Er – _was_ that her?" he finished in a small voice.

Nightwing's voice burst playfully over the airwaves. "Anything else Batman needs to know right now, Robin? Her measurements? Maybe her favourite food, or turn-offs? Hey, how about her Astrological Sign?"

Batman frowned as there came a muffled cacophony of sound over the radio, the scraping of a chair leg and the hum of a computer monitor being switched on, followed by distant mouse clicks.

"I use Google, Nightwing!" Robin said defensively "I'm lucky enough I just got back in and was right in front of my computer when Batman called, and I've got Google open right now and I'm researching, you know, like detectives do."

The receiver was flooded with the sound of Nightwing's laughter. Batman grimaced. It might have been funny. Under other circumstances.

"Nightwing, not now. Go on, Robin."

There followed the clacking of the keyboard followed by several more mouse clicks while Nightwing smothered his snickers, then Robin spoke up again, his voice bright with bravado.

"Yeah, it's her! She doesn't use her stage name, but it's her! She does Rogues Gallery porn. Mostly the Poison Ivy Dominatrix stuff."

Batman paused mid-step on the rooftop, his cape billowing out around him. Nightwing and Robin both waited silently for his response and with a start he realised his pause had been too significant.

"...Interesting. Thank you, Robin. "

Nightwing again burst out laughing and Batman bristled, feeling hot irritation swell through his tensed frame as he crouched on the rooftop, the twilight sky a mottled rainbow of red and purple in the distance..

"It's hardly a laughing matter, Nightwing. Joker has now induced this woman to aid and abet him in first degree murder – twice," he snapped brusquely. "You could show a little respect."

There was the shortest of pauses and then Nightwing spoke in a chagrined and slightly sullen voice.

"You're right, I'm sorry Batman. Tim – sorry buddy."

"No sweat, pal. At least I haven't copped an eyeful of Joker oiling Harley's gears." Robin couldn't keep the smugness from his voice and there was a sharp intake as Nightwing readied himself to respond when Oracle joined the line.

"Okay, team, what did I miss?"

"Joker's screened another murder. The same porn star is involved." Robin summed up and Oracle's voice grew quiet with shocked sorrow.

"God, that's awful. That poor woman."

Nightwing chose that poorly timed moment to get his own back on Robin.

"Yeah, enough to make you cry. Hey, Robin, got a Kleenex?"

"What?" Oracle questioned confusedly as Robin sputtered in outrage.

"Fuck you, Dick!" Robin snapped and Batman abruptly disconnected before rising from his crouch, fists clenched.

He knew Dick only meant to lighten the mood. That he wasn't deliberately insensitive or callous, that humour was his way of coping with adversity like this.

But that was of no comfort when it came right after Batman had learned three million people worldwide had paid to watch the Joker kill.

The wooden door of the utility storeroom splintered clean in half from the force of the kick he levelled at it.

_--_

_Again, credit must be paid to zhinxy for continuing to aid me with this fic and share her wonderful ideas and thoughts. Yay for the magic collaborative team and especially for her keen wit, far sharper than mine._

_Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I just wasn't feeling it for a while there. This fic actually got completely out of control to what I originally intended it to be. But hey, it's still fun! I hope you're enjoying it._

_Finally, if you love JokerxHarley, then there is a community I run here on the site. It isn't under the comics/Batman category because I wanted to be able to add fics from multiple categories. So to find it, just go to my profile, and scroll down to where my fics begin, and look for the 'Communities' header. It's under there. It has a really fantastic range of stuff by very talented writers. You can subscribe to it to be alerted when there are updates too!_

_Until the next chapter…_


	12. Slashed

My dearest Becky,

**TWLEVE**

_My dearest Becky,_

_Your lovely letter touched my very heart and warmed my very soul – in fact, all my major organs have been palpitating over your fervent words many a time since, I promise you, honey. They've brought a little wet heat to my cold, dry days here in my tomb away from home._

_For a girl of fourteen, you show a great deal of promise, my sweet and I admire your impetuous ambition. You simply must keep me up to date with your progress. I'll wait with baited breath for news, lambchop. I know you'll do me proud._

_Love the photo by the way. That's one way to make this old clown smile!_

_And, of course, your own smile is fit to dazzle the eye. How I'd like to see it fixed there, always…_

_Love and sloppy kisses,_

_Joker_

The three teenaged girls were misty-eyed as they finished reading the letter, its letterhead declaring it having originated in Arkham Asylum, the purple ink it had been penned in gleaming beneath its protective plastic covering.

"You're sooo lucky Becky," Siobhan sighed, twisting a purple and green dreadlock around one finger. "I hope he'll answer my letter too."

Becky snapped the violet scrapbook shut and planted a kiss on its cover, plastered with a collage of images clipped from magazines, all of the same grinning face. "He won't be able to until he's back in Arkham. But I'm sure he will. He really appreciates his fans, you know."

Siobhan sighed and rolled over onto her back on Becky's bed, stretching her arms above her head, her white school blouse riding up over her stomach. "I hope so," she said wistfully as Becky rolled off the bed and checked the time on her computer.

"Fifteen minutes, chickies!" she squealed and spun around so that her short plaid school skirt flared up, then danced on the spot, tapping a cigarette out of the pack she kept tucked into one knee-high white sock.

"I'm gonna get ready," Jack, an oddly tall, lanky basketball player with cropped, dyed-green hair, pushed herself off the bed and snatched her green-striped knapsack from Becky's bedroom floor. "You girls should think about that too. You'll wanna look your best for Mister Jay."

"Speaking of," Becky sat on the edge of her desk and let her legs part flirtatiously, taking in a long draw from her cigarette. "Did you bring _our_ Mister Jay, Jackie?"

Siobhan stopped stroking the laminated WANTED poster of the Joker that was stuck to the wall near Becky's pillow and whirled around to join her friend in staring eagerly at Jack, the two girls making mock puppy dog eyes and flashing mischievous grins.

In response Jack merely grinned and dove a hand into her bag, a moment later presenting a bright purple strap-on harness with a nine-inch long white dildo attached to it.

"I know you girls will be feeling frisky after the Clown Prince performs his magic," the overgrown teenager chuckled and Siobhan squealed and flopped back against the orange and green pillows as Becky bounced around on her desk.

"Mom is out all night, so we won't be disturbed," Becky informed her friends as Jack kicked off her school skirt and wiggled out of her blouse, stooping to retrieve a pair of purple trousers and an orange shirt from her knapsack. "I managed to swipe her credit card, purchase the key pass and put it back in her purse when she was rushing about getting ready for work. She'll never even know," Becky shut her eyes and blew a mouthful of smoke out rapturously. "And we'll finally get to see the glorious Mister Jay live and uncensored!"

Siobhan squealed again and curled into a little ball. "Stop! The wait is _killing _me. I don't think I can take it much longer. How much time now?"

Becky checked: "Just ten minutes, baby. Sit tight."

"I can't!" Siobhan whined. "Oh Mister Jay, Mister Jay, I need you so bad!"

"Wonder how he's going to off this next loser," Jack said in the background, standing in front of Becky's dresser mirror. Its entire border was covered in an overlapping pattern of cut-out images of the Joker, leaving only the one small bare space in the center for Jack to apply white makeup to her face. "This feels kind of surreal. I mean, we're actually going to be seeing him. _Live_. Doing his thing in all its glory. Not like – condensed news reports or shaky bystander footage or cleaned up clips – just him. The Joker."

Becky flopped down onto the bed beside Siobhan. "It's going to be amazing," she breathed and fumbled beneath the pillows for her Joker plushie doll.

"I'm still trying to find one of those on eBay," Siobhan pouted.

Becky grinned and nuzzled the grinning doll. "Original by the Turley Toy Company. When Joker found out about it he travelled all the way to Metropolis to teach that magnate a lesson. He's my baby."

"You're so lucky," Siobhan said enviously, looking around Becky's room, a veritable shrine to the Clown Prince of Crime. Everything was decorated in varying shades of green, orange and purple and what surfaces weren't covered with blown up images, framed newspaper articles and crime scene memorabilia – for which Becky had traded more than kisses – were spray-painted with jagged red letters repeating the same words over again: HA HA HA HA HA.

Becky draped a comforting arm around her friend's shoulder: "Hey me and Jack have been Mister Jay fans a lot longer than you. We've had more time to fill out our clown shoes. But we've got ya now, and you'll never get away! You're a Joker's Jackanape for life!" she pressed a kiss to her friend's cheek but Siobhan remained morose.

"Father Luke called in my parents _again_ to discuss the 'unhealthy hold' the 'devil's instrument' has on me," she complained bitterly. "They made me take down all the posters of Mister J from my room. Never mind the kind of decorating you're allowed to do, Becky. All I had were my posters and now they're locked in some cupboard somewhere. _And_ they want me to see a therapist."

"Forget about Father Luke. He's a relic. Baptised us all, baby, fed us our first wafers, heard our confessions, imbued us with the Holy Spirit and now cramps our style," Jack called, combing her dyed hair into a pompadour.

Becky gave her friend a consolatory hug. "Don't worry honey. You can come over here any time and look through my stuff and talk about him to your heart's content. And – " she flashed a playful glance up at Jack who was applying red lipstick to her white-painted face. " – play with our very _own_ Mister Jay."

Finished, Jack whirled to them, a green silk tie knotted at her throat, purple pants slung low on her hips and bulging where the dildo was concealed beneath it. She grinned and spread her arms wide as the two girls giggled with glee.

"You look more like him every day," Becky swooned and Jack preened.

"Turn that frown upside down, Shiv," Jack commanded. "You know Mister Jay would want to see you smile. And don't forget my Dad _is_ a producer at GothTV," she grinned. "I _do_ have access to the archives and he _is _taking me in next weekend. You know what that means, right? Full digital copies of every episode of _It's Joker Time_!"

"_Oh my God!_" Siobhan and Becky flung themselves upright, holding onto each other in their excitement.

"They're the only ones of his TV appearances I don't have!" Becky squealed. "Oh Jack, do you mean it, do you mean it?" She bounced off the bed and threw her arms around her friend, grinding her crotch up against the tomboy's.

"Would I lie to you baby?" Jack teased and Becky grinned naughtily.

"You _have_ got a lot of Mister Jay in you," she pointed out coyly and Jack grinned and pinched her cheek.

"And you got a lot of hench wench in _you_," she returned.

Then Siobhan was fumbling in her own knapsack, squeaking excitedly.

"Oh guys, I totally forgot to tell you, my Harley costume is nearly finished!" She pulled a length of black and red spandex from her bag, unfurling it for the others to see.

Jack let out a low whistle and grinned rakishly at the petite girl with her dreadlocks and lip piercing. "You will make one hot Harley. I can't wait."

Becky sniffed and rolled her eyes. "I hate that fucking bitch. You just know he wishes she would just go the fuck away and only puts up with her cos she looks good in a clown suit. I bet he'll kill her one day," she flounced over to the bed and snatched up her Joker plushie again, holding him possessively against her. Siobhan chewed her lip, clearly wanting to argue and not daring to. Jack merely grinned.

"I'm sure he'd want you, if he ever met you baby," she consoled Becky, winking at Siobhan.

"_When_," Becky muttered, nuzzling the plushie and pouting. "Goddamn it. Why didn't I get to see the original video? As much as I hate that Quinn bitch – oooh, seeing his cock would've made it worth it. I bet he's an _animal_."

"We'll get it eventually, Becks," Siobhan shoved her Harley Quinn costume back into her knapsack and rolled off the bed to put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Someone's bound to get a copy and we'll find it. we've got all his other video appearances, right?"

"I guess," Becky said sullenly, her eyes brimming with sulky tears. "It's just not _fair_. I mean, I've seen all the blurry screen shots and read the blow by blows but it's not the _same_. Not the same as seeing it live in action – his beautiful body and gorgeous smile and perfect cock – " Becky started storming back and forth across her purple rug, gripping the plushie harder and harder in her hands, teeth clenched. "God, everything I've read about it just convinces me more and more he's the perfect man, the ultimate, perfect guy, all wicked and gorgeous and sexy and it just _hurts, _you know, it hurts that I didn't get to see it and all these strangers have. It hurts me in here," she whacked a fist against her sternum, "in here, in my heart, like a knife being twisted. I deserve to have seen it more than any of those people! I'm his biggest fan! I love him more than anyone else does – goddamn it, _he wrote a personal letter to me!_" Her voice rose to a hysterical shriek and she kicked viciously at her wardrobe door, struggling against her sobs.

Siobhan shot an alarmed glance at Jack who had a curious little smile on her face. Jack, who had lived on the same street as Becky since the two of them were five, was not in the least perturbed, just came forward and grasped her friend by both cheeks, forcing her mouth up into a smile.

"And what would Mister Jay say if he could see you now, being a sookie sad sap?" she scolded gently. "He said you'd do him proud, that he believed in you. You wanna betray him with tears instead of giggles?" Becky's mouth twitched a little as she gazed into the illusory white and green of her friend's face. Jack bent closer to the petite brunette's face and whispered: "I bet Harley's always smiling."

That snapped Becky out of it and her tears dried instantly, a big beaming smile spreading across her face to reveal her braces.

"He said my smile is dazzling," she said, squeezing her plushie and Jack nodded.

"It is, baby. And we're gonna make sure you smile all night long. First him and then me."

Suddenly, a cackling peal of laughter shrieked out of the lime-green mobile phone sitting on Becky's desk.

"Oh my God, the alarm, it's time!" Becky gasped and the three friends made a mad dash for Becky's desk, Jack taking the chair and the other two girls perching on either of her knees.

"No one puts a smile on our faces like you, Mister Jay," Becky's voice tremulously sing-songed as she tapped the passkey into the field box with shaking hands, and then clicked "ENTER".

The three friends held their breath and gripped each other's hands tight as they waited for the show to begin.

_--_

_Sorry about the cliffhanger. And sorry for the lack of Joker action, I just really wanted to write this chapter. I know it's not ha-ha funny like most of the rest, but I couldn't resist the ideas in it._

_I have two new one-shots out at the moment as well – 'Smile' and 'Penance'. I'd absolutely love it if you read and reviewed them! They're accessible through my profile. I also wrote a new pure smut piece, which is on my JokerxHarley Fanfiction Archive profile – you can also find a link to that on my profile. The story is called 'Killing Time'. Feedback and thoughts are desperately appreciated!_

_And don't worry – the next chapter is gonna be intense. Mistah J's got a lotta big bad planned._


	13. Hacked

**THIRTEEN**

The twinkling script that scrolled across approximately one million computer monitors worldwide moments after Becky and her disturbed friends hit the 'Enter' key read:

_Slave to Her Sandbox_

Moments later the animated curtain lifted away to reveal the Joker in traditional director's garb: jauntily perched beret, bell-sleeved shirt and unbuttoned waistcoat, tight fitting jodhpurs and knee high boots, all of it in the most glaring selection of purples, oranges and greens. Topping it all off, he wore a very strange black moustache.

"Hello thrill-seekers," he leered into the camera, doffing his beret. "Still can't get enough of my mind blowing mischief, eh? Lucky for you your loving Uncle Joker has been working his fingers to the bone to come up with more toe-curling treats for you all!"

For a moment he paused, then leant back and placed a hand theatrically upon his chest, brows raised high on his forehead. "Y'know, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your attentiveness. Truly. Many have ridiculed my vision over the years, calling it cheap, tasteless and hopelessly self-indulgent but damnit all – " and here he thumped one fist emphatically into his palm, eyes bulging. " – I have always striven to create _Art_." His face relaxed once more, easing into a magnanimous smile as he held his gloved hands out to the camera. "And you, my friends – you have made it all worthwhile. But enough from me, eh, I know you're more interested in the beast who gives great head and well, folks, here she is, our very own Torturous Temptress, the one and only Annie Maul!"

Joker stepped back from the camera, which zoomed out, revealing a room saturated in animal print. The rug was tiger-striped and the wall-paper was a gold-flecked ocelet pattern. A fleet of stairs led up to a monstrous bed, bedecked in leopard print covers, and everywhere were scattered cushions in varying patterns of cheetah, tiger, lion, panther and any other species of big cat that could be brought down by a well aimed bullet.

In the midst of all this excess, reclining against the cushions decorating the bed, the unfortunate Annie Maul blinked dazedly and licked her cracked lips. She was dressed in a cheap sparkling black catsuit that shimmered with every move she made. Her brassy red hair was piled up on top of her head, a pair of cat ears nestled within it, and a tiny black mask was perched on her face, thin wire whiskers sticking out on either side.

Joker skipped up the stairs and jumped onto the bed beside her, sliding in close and placing a familiar arm around her shoulders.

"Doesn't she just look the part?" he grinned at the camera and reached up a long-fingered hand to tickle Annie under the chin who hesitated a moment and then began to make a loud rumbling noise – an attempt at purring. "Well, can you blame me, Gothamites? I am nothing if not obliging to my audience and I know how you all love a little man-eating pussy!" The Joker dropped a lurid wink and chuckled to himself as Annie began to rub her face against Joker's hand. "Oooh, Catwoman my dear, does Batman know you're going snacking at the neighbour's house?"

Annie blinked glazed eyes at the Joker, her lusty pout practiced to perfection, before dragging his middle finger between her teeth.

"Oh, forget about that big dumb old Batman, Uncle Joker," she said breathily. "It's you I want to play in my sandbox!"

The Joker smacked a hand to his cheek and rolled his eyes up to the camera. "You heard it here first, folks! Guess kitty needs a _real _pole to scratch!" His expression slipped into a leer of pure wickedness and he hopped up onto his knees. "Well, c'mon on then honey, roll on over and let me toy with that tail!"

Annie squealed lustily, and to the sound of squeaking fabric began twisting around on the bed, arching her back and sticking her shapely derriere towards the Joker who recoiled a little then sat up straight, lifting one hand to cup his ear in an attitude of exaggerated attention.

"But hark!" Joker cried. "Was that the sound of breaking glass?"

Annie blinked then fumbled into a kneeling position, cupping a hand behind her ear too, her eyes wide and her lips parted as she fudged through her role. As she sat up, light reflected off the strange silver girdle she wore over her cheap costume.

"What could it be, Uncle Joker?" she put excessive effort into her acting, speaking so loudly the Joker winced.

Then he turned around to Annie and grasped her by the arms, yanking her against him.

"I believe, my felonious feline, that we might very well – " and he turned back to the camera with an evil grin. " – have a _bat_ in our _belfry_!"

"At least it's not in my _basement_ no more," Annie suddenly quipped before bursting into a snorting guffaw. Joker's eyes narrowed impatiently and his mouth screwed up before he whirled on the stoned woman and shook her.

"_What_ did I tell you about upstaging me?" he hissed. "Stick to the script, damn you!"

"Sorry, sorry," Annie giggled and Joker shoved her impatiently off camera before leaping neatly to his feet and dusting off his shirtfront.

"Amateurs," he sniffed before striking a dramatic pose, one leg pointed out behind him, hands upon his hips.

"Well, Caped Crusader, come on out and face me! What are ya – a man, or a mouse?"

There was a long moment of silence and Joker's smile froze, his eyes moving from side to side in his head as he waited.

"Or just pussy?" he tried again, speaking through his teeth, and then a figure shuffled into view, clearly nudged forward with the muzzle of a gun wielded by someone off screen.

Batman, better known as James "Jimbo" Davidson, slunk onto the screen, his hefty frame trembling violently.

His generously padded body had been woefully squeezed into a three-sizes too small polyester Batman costume. The pale blue fabric stretched taut over his stomach and the sleeves and tights ended at the elbow and knee respectively. A yellow bat insignia was on his chest and a pair of dark blue underpants strained around his large behind.

A cowl had been jammed down over his teary face, a flaccid pair of bat ears flopping on either side. A pair of white eyebrows gave the cowl a quirky look, and his blue cape shimmered beneath the lights.

"Well, Holy Humping Heroes, there you are, you miserable, pointy-eared rat!" the Joker screeched in triumph, his fake moustache quivering in excitement, pointing at the terrified man. "Come to crack my kitty, huh?"

Jimbo stood on the tiger-print carpet, looking about with a dazed expression, gathering the edges of his miserly cape protectively around him.

"Dude – " he fumbled pleadingly. "Dude, c'mon, it was just – just business, y'know?"

Offscreen, Annie's voice whined petulantly: "Uncle Joker, he's not sticking to the script!"

Joker hit his forehead with a palm. "Amateurs!" he muttered, then beckoned to the unseen Annie. The sound of her spike heels could be heard clattering along the tiled floor before she bounced onscreen, smiling brilliantly at the camera before lifting both hands up into claws and hissing out at the watching audience.

Joker watched her mug with a stiff smile for a moment before elbowing his way in front of her, pushing his beret up higher on his head.

"Catwoman, my love, what have you got to say to this over-zealous lion-tamer, hrmm?"

Annie swayed unsteadily for a moment before lurching into a cat-like pose, her 'claws' extended towards Jimbo, her teeth bared in a snarl. "Miaow! You ain't gonna get a collar on me, Dark Knight! This kitty is wild! Purr!"

Behind her, the Joker rolled his eyes.

"Come on now, Annie, you're a cat not a ham," he muttered, hands on his hips.

"Wh-where's Danny?" Jimbo snivelled, edging off to the side only to be waved back on by the gun muzzle. "Wh-what have you done with him, man?"

Joker blinked as though confused then looked all about the garish room exaggeratedly.

"Danny?" he repeated in a wondering voice then shrugged his shoulders. "There's no Danny here, _Batman_. Maybe you're getting your _names mixed up_." This last said pointedly, purple eyes fixed flint-like on the hapless Jimbo whose shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Whe-where's Robin?"

"That peeping tom was caught scratching at the backdoor of my secret wilderness lair!" Annie placed a curious emphasis on the words _wilderness lair_ and looked none too subtly at the camera as she did so. "And you know what they say curiosity did to the cat!"

Jimbo blinked his bleary eyes, his lower lip slack. "Isn't Robin a bird?" he questioned dumbly and Joker snarled and stomped his foot.

"Stop improvising!" he snapped at Annie. "You're terrible at it!"

As Annie chewed contritely on one of the red plastic claws attached to her sparkling gloves, the Joker turned back to Jimbo and struck a pose, puffing his chest out and placing both fists on his hips.

Well, my dear Caped Catastrophe, it seems you have successfully manoeuvred the Western Wilds," here Joker's eyes darted quickly to the camera and back to the cowering Jimbo again, "to discover your precious kitty's been slurping from my milk bowl. But before you pulverise me to mincemeat, wait until you see who's about to be turned into catmeat – Catwoman?"

Annie stared dully at the Joker before a moment before realisation dawned and she assumed her role again, trotting over to the floor-to-ceiling leopard print-drapes that concealed one wall of the garish room.

"If you think this meowing minx looks like she's been enjoying her cream, Dumb Knight – " she over-enunciated, pumping her hips back and forward as she posed with a silk cord between her hands. " – that's because I'm the _cat_ who got the _canary_! Rowr!"

With that Annie gave the cord an almighty tug and the drapes fell away to reveal the hapless Danny spreadeagled and bound to a cross. Suspended some five feet from him and positioned cross-ways to his body, a wickedly curved blade hovered, attached to a pulley. On a sign, bordered in flashing neon globes, the words "Spontaneous Spaying System" were painted. Danny was jammed into a Robin suit that fit him even worse than Jimbo's Batman garb, a ridiculously elvish looking get-up, with bared legs and pixie slippers on his feet.

Upon sight of his friend, Danny's eyes bulged open and he began to struggle against his chains:

"Jimmy! Jimbo, you gotta help me, man! Help me!" Danny's voice was wavery with panic.

"That's right, Bat-ham!" Joker's voice was gleeful. "In order to win back your lady love, you need to prove yourself worthy by rescuing your helpless chum Robin, from my automated neutering device!" From his pocket the Joker retrieved a remote control and waved it about triumphantly. "Honestly, Bat-breath, I'm trying to do you a favour – we wouldn't want the little birdie's lovely singing voice to crack would we?" Joker twirled his false moustache and chortled before suddenly glowering. "Not to mention the sort of trouble the kids get into once they hit heat," he muttered darkly then leered at his hostage once more. "So unless you can decode the machine and shut it down, the Boy-Brat will be fixed – permanently! So c'mon – rise to the challenge and prove who the bigger man is – " the Joker leaned forward and leered with a wink. " – once and for all!"

Jimbo stood in front of the camera, his shoulders sagged over, an expression of defeat visible beneath the mask he wore. His lip wobbled violently as the Joker lifted a hand in the air, pointing one finger and circling it ostentatiously above the remote control. Jimbo glanced at the camera steadily recording his demise and suddenly burst into tears, his shoulders shaking as he gasped around his sobs.

The Joker made a disgusted noise and rolled his eyes. "Honestly, amateurs," he muttered and jammed his finger onto the button of the remote control. With a heavy grinding noise, the pendulum blade began to slowly move back and forth and Danny let out a strangled cry.

"_Jimbo, you gotta help me man! Fucking help me!" _he screeched, struggling with renewed vigour against his bonds and Joker's eyes rolled deliriously up onto the helpless man as Annie's jaw dropped and she gaped at the sight. The Joker tossed the remote control to her and her plastic claws scrabbled against each other as she clumsily caught it.

The Joker stared at Danny for a moment before chuckling. "What a screamer! Well, Batfreak?" the Joker exclaimed, turning back to his victim and spreading his arms wide. "What's it gonna be? Are you gonna fight for your pussy, or concede that when it comes to cajones, I got the lion's share and let your dear old buddy there just _die_?"

"Jimbo, please, I'm fucking family man!!" Danny shrieked as the pendulum blade dropped an inch or two and continued to swing with increasing speed.

A sort of wildness took light in Jimbo's eyes. It was as if he realised that he had no hope of winning, that this was the end and he may as well go out with a fight. Clenching his meaty fists he opened his mouth and began to roar as he barrelled towards the Joker who chuckled and rubbed his hands with glee.

The Clown Prince stood his ground as the desperate man pounded towards him, his ill-fitting Bat-suit rippling over his flabby pectorals. Just as Jimbo raised one fist to swing at the Joker, the Manic Maniac dodged beneath his arm and slammed an elbow backwards, directly into Jimbo's kidneys.

"Pow!" the Joker sang out cheerily as Annie squealed in the background and bounced up and down and Jimbo wheezed in pain, falling to his knees. Joker spun around, catching Jimbo with a surprisingly forceful uppercut. "Biff!" the clown boomed, then brought his clenched fists down on Jimbo's skull. "Bam!"

Behind them, Annie rubbed the remote control device all over her inflated breasts, licking her lips exaggeratedly whilst Danny watched the descending blade in disbelieving horror.

"Fight for me, boys!" she cried, wiggling her breasts back and forth, "watching you two hunks duke it out is giving me a _bad_ case of _cat scratch fever!_"

Jimbo, at least a hundred pounds heavier than the Joker, hunched on the floor, heaving and gasping. The Clown Prince swung his leg back, took a moment to savour what he was about to do, then brought it flying forward, directly into Jimbo's fleshy spandex underpants-clad groin, causing the weeping man to collapse on the tiger-print pile carpet.

Joker turned to the camera and hissed through his teeth with relish:

"Crrrrrrunnnch!"

The rocking blade dropped another few inches, now barely a hair's breadth from Danny's quivering belly. The victim was watching it with glazed eyes now as though he had accepted the inevitability of his fate.

The Joker stood above the wheezing Jimbo with his hands on his hips, flashing a toothy smile. "You know this really isn't as hard as you've made it," he said conversationally. "And not _nearly_ as _hard_ as _I_ could've made it. Heh. Not that I want to be known as a _softie_ or anything, but I thought you'd appreciate a little fluffing, as it were. C'mon, keed, hop up."

Jimbo continued to snivel into the carpet and the Joker stared down at him a moment before his face contorted with disgust and he delved into his waistcoat pocket, producing another remote control. He hit the button and the blade above Danny slowly stopped its swing, grinding to a half.

"Amateurs," the Joker sighed with a disenchanted expression. "This is getting really boring."

"I'm having great fun!" Annie squealed, grinning madly. "I've never worked with special effects this good before! It's so professional!"

This brought a smile back to Joker's face and then he whirled around and beckoned to Annie who went skipping over to him, throwing her arms up around his neck and trying to stick her tongue down his throat. The Joker's eyes bulged and he delicately extricated himself from the porn princess' grasp before turning her forcibly to the camera, his arm about her waist, his long fingers tapping suggestively on her metal girdle.

"Well, Batdork," he announced cheerily to Jimbo, who was beginning to push himself up. "Since you failed to pound the kitty, you can't expect me to leave our audience hanging high and dry and I _did _promise them a little man-eating-pussy action – " he dropped the camera a wink, then reached down and grasped Jimbo by the cape, hoisting him up to a kneeling position. " – so open wide and let's get you gagging on a hairball, honey – " his hand on Annie's hip moved slightly to hit a concealed switch and suddenly a panel at the front of the girdle slid away to reveal several rows of wickedly sharp blades that began to whir and buzz like a meat-grinder.

Jimbo's swollen eyes widened as he beheld the motorised blades and he opened his mouth to protest when Joker placed a hand on the back of his head and declared: "C'mon and be a _man_!" before shoving him face first onto the jagged metal.

Jimbo barely had time to let out a strangled scream before a fine shower of blood and flesh sprayed into the air around Joker and Annie. Annie blinked rapidly and held up her hands in a gesture of mincing protestation while Joker watched with round, delighting eyes as though beholding a fall of confetti.

Then Joker pushed Jimbo's twitching body away, shoving with a grunt as a section of what was Jimbo's face caught on the blades before finally dislodging. Jimbo crashed backwards onto the carpet and Joker wiped his brow with the back of one hand.

"Phew! Well, not quite the climax I was building for but I have always enjoyed a little voyeurism. " He switched Annie's girdle off as the porn star wiped delicately at the bits of flesh that spattered her costume, then patted her affectionately on the groin. "And I think we've got plenty of money left in this kitty yet, eh sweet cheeks?" Annie giggled insipidly as the Joker leered at her before turning back to the camera and unfurling one hand towards it. "Which is fortunate, because we've clearly got to send Birdboy here off with a real bang – " the camera panned back to take in the death trap, which was revealed to be unexpectedly empty, the chains sagging uselessly. " – oh." Joker finished as Annie tottered over the body of Jimbo, peering down into the pulpy mess that had been his face.

"Gee, these ef-ex sure are convincing!" she marvelled. "You gonna get up, honey?"

Joker ripped off his false moustache and whirled on the camera with a new fire in his eyes, his smile nearly splitting his face. Off-screen a rapid peal of gunfire could be heard before it was abruptly silenced.

"Well, kiddies, it's been fun but it seems the time has come to wrap up our little exploitation expose," the sound of muffled grunts and flesh striking flesh continued beneath the Joker's impassioned voice. "I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed fulfilling all your most sordid desires though I don't expect that low art will ever be able to overcome your pathetic, slavering need for high smut." Off camera there was a shout and a groan of pain, the sound of bodies hitting the floor. The Joker continued, his eyes growing wilder as he spat at the screen. "No, I imagine your appetite for violating the private lives of those far superior to you has only been increased! It's impossible to teach you losers anything, you'll just pant and sit up and beg for more! Well I gave it to you, I gave it to you good," the Clown Prince's eyes were now bulging, his white skin slowly flushing red as he thrust his face into the camera. "And I hope you're _choking_ on it, do you hear me? _Gag on it! _And you!" the Joker's eyes snapped upwards, above the camera. "Well, Holy Hefty Hostages! Where in blazes have _you_ been? You know I can never reach the climax without you! Carrying on alone just isn't as satisfying! Seriously, you'd think – "

The camera was suddenly blotted out by a swooping black shape. The crunch of a fist against jaw was heard and the Joker giggled weakly before everything went silent.

--

_I'm so sincerely sorry it took me so long to ejaculate this one. I had performance anxiety. Whilst I can pound out psychological and character-driven pieces no sweat, when it comes to schemes worthy of our adored Clown Prince, I tend to clench up. _

_I have spent since the last update nutting out the particulars of this chapter to a point I was happy with. You won't believe the facelifts it got! Mistah J deserves only the best and though I'm not sure I gave it to him, I did my best. _

_I would very much like to thank Jarec for being a sounding board for some of my ideas on this one. My beloved co-author zhinxy has been very busy with other commitments of late so he filled in, telling me what sounded good and providing a couple of well-placed suggestions._

_Zhinxy's contributions return in the final two chapters, to be published very soon!_

_Thank you for sticking with me and I hope this chapter did not disappoint after the long wait._


	14. Crashed

**FOURTEEN**

Outside Annie Maul's sprawling country estate, located twenty miles west of Gotham City proper, four emergency officers hoisted up the stretcher bearing a shock-numbed Danny and slid it into the back of the ambulance. The police milled about, the red and blue lights atop their cars flashing luridly in the early dawn light.

Annie Maul, wrapped in a blanket and shivering either with drug fever or the morning chill, blinked confusedly at Detective Bullock from her porch loveseat as he blustered and fumbled, trying to explain the bloody mess the crime scene investigators were scraping off her living room floor was not particularly advanced Hollywood special effects. Between Annie's drug-induced stupor and her mountainous breasts, the detective was having an extremely difficult time finding exactly the right words to say.

Speeding away from the estate, a surreal sight by daylight, the Batmobile took the country highway turns with ease.

The Batman grimly stared ahead out through the windshield, his grip on the steering wheel tight. Beside him in the passenger seat, the Joker dabbed delicately at his bloody nose with his shirt sleeve, the bat-cuffs on his wrists clinking.

"I feel all dirty after that," Joker said conversationally. "But I couldn't very well let my honour go undefended. How I suffer for my Art!" he continued in a theatrical voice. "Not that those lemmings will ever appreciate it. Bread and circuses – or drugs and orgies. Ugh, how _tacky!" _Joker stuck his tongue out and shuddered. The Batman continued to watch the road, unblinking. "What's to bet this is remembered longer than my loftier attempts? I'll just have to make sure my next effort far surpasses anything I've done before! I suppose it's at least given me something to aspire to – " Joker paused briefly and glanced at the Dark Knight from the corner of his eyes. The Batman remained silent. A snide grin quirked one side of Joker's mouth. " – sorry about the whole Catwoman setup," Joker's voice was sly with insincerity. "It's just, I knew you'd get all huffy about the whole 'slaughtering people thing'," Joker quote-marked his last words with his manacled hands held up below his chin. "Like you _always_ do and I just wanted you understand how it _felt_ to have one's private moments with one's other paramour displayed for all the world to see – and not even reap the profits yourself!" Joker snorted and tossed his head. A muscle moved in the Batman's jaw. "_Do_ send on my apologies to Selina, mmm?"

The Batman took the next corner a little sharper and the Joker giggled as he was tossed violently forward in his seat.

"Whee! That's more like it. So how did you figure it out? You showed up too quick for it to have been the little clues Annie and I were dropping – a sign of my desperation if ever there was one. No, no, you would've checked out the entreprenuing lads' abodes first, am I right, then investigated sweet Annie's holdings?" The Batman did not reply. "Am I right? I'm right, aren't I?" Joker continued assuredly.

The Batman stared straight ahead. Suddenly, the radio crackled.

"Batman, it's Robin. Catwoman just uh, advised me that if you don't already have the Joker back in Arkham you better get him there quick. She – " Robin hesitated and then his voice dropped a notch or two. " – asked me to specifically say her claws are dying to try out his scratching post."

The Joker roared with laughter, bending over and slapping his knees as Batman jabbed the radio off. The Joker continued to bellow his merriment as they coasted along the brightening highway towards the city. The Batman did nothing and eventually the Joker began to calm down, peering at him curiously, his head cocked to the side.

"You know, you haven't even looked at me," Joker sniffed. "Haven't even bopped me except for that first roundhouse. Haven't even told me to shut up, and usually you've said that three or four times by now. What's wrong? I know it's past your bedtime, but this is surly, even for you. C'mon, like rubbing out a couple of sleazy pornographers is the worst thing I've ever done! Okay, so Annie may be in therapy for the rest of her life, but she needed it anyway! I just nudged her in the right direction. Did her a favour, really! Lighten up, old chum! Anyone would think you hadn't seen it all bef – " Joker's voice abruptly cut-off and he stared at the Batman with widening eyes and a dangling jaw. Batman's eyes darted agitatedly to the gaping Joker before snapping back onto the road, his grip on the wheel tightening.

Then the Joker's face contorted into a wickedly gloating leer, his brows furrowing down in sheer gleeful malice.

"You – _watched it_ – didn't you?" the Joker's voice rumbled with suppressed laughter.

The Batman's nostrils flared and the Joker burst into a cackling laugh, throwing his head back against his seat.

"You did!" he exclaimed delightedly, "You did! How many times? It was more than once wasn't it? I hope you didn't rub-raw the stop-motion button! Oh dear, oh dearie me, honey, I feel all violated now! Just promise me you didn't flog the Bat-Bishop! You didn't, did you? Hahahaha, you kinky fiend, I knew all that tight rubber wasn't just for show!"

The Batman's body was so tense it was quivering. He concertedly did not look at the Joker but continued to glare ahead, his booted foot steadily bearing down on the accelerator.

"Phew!" Joker continued to giggle, "No more secrets left between us, you've seen me in all my glory now! Unless you count that time I was on Quaaludes and I think I got a ruler and suggested we whip out and settle this once and for all – well hey, I guess you know better than me now who the winner is – care to share?" Joker fluttered his lashes at Batman who suddenly bared his teeth in a snarl.

"Shut. Up." The Dark Knight finally growled and the Joker continued to cackle with laughter as the Batmobile roared along the highway.

_--_

_Just one wrap-up chapter left to go, keeds! My thanks and acknowledgement, as always, to zhinxy for her contributions to this chapter.  
_


	15. Booted

**FIFTEEN**

Downloading, distributing and possessing the pornographic video that had started it all was made a criminal offence with penalties ranging from a five-thousand dollar fine to a year in jail. This action was not taken out of any respect for its famous stars, but in order to avoid a recurrence of the untimely death of any who might possess it.

Naturally, the video thrived on the underground market with the most creative of measures to disguise it undertaken; not simply to avoid the law but to avoid the Joker's attention. One of these measures included the video being inserted halfway through an otherwise intact version of _Milo and Otis_.

Daniel Leggo was offered a collective fee of fifty million dollars from various media conglomerates for the exclusive rights to his harrowing experience.

He turned them all down. Strangely, the sum total of profits from the sales of _Crazed Ecstasy_ had also equalled fifty million dollars. These profits were confiscated by the police.

Daniel sold all of his computer equipment, his entertainment unit and his extensive pornography collection for a total of ten thousand dollars, changed his name and moved to the Torres Strait Islands where he eked out a humble living painting "authentic tribal masks" for the rest of his days.

Annie Maul was offered three more pornography contracts and one straight acting contract with an emerging Hollywood studio. She took the acting contract, staged a high-profile rehabilitation and starred in a biopic of her own life, as herself. It was revealed she was a surprisingly good actress with excellent business sense who went on to have a highly successful career in cult cinema, padding out her sizeable income with various convention appearances. Ironically, of all the many men who'd fed her that line throughout her life, Joker really did make her career.

In her memoirs, slated to be published after her death, she revealed that she had known all along the Joker's murders were real and had faked drug-induced ignorance so that she could avoid persecution.

Dick Grayson brought Barbara Gordon her cannoli and she showed her gratitude by replacing memories of the Joker and Harley Quinn's amorous exploits with a few of her own.

The Joker and Harley Quinn were kept strictly separated at Arkham Asylum for the duration their incarceration lasted for before their next escape. They didn't seem to mind and Poison Ivy noted that mysterious bruises continued to appear on Harley's body at irregular intervals. Despite a thorough investigation by the Arkham board, it remained undiscovered how they had both escaped from their cell that fateful night and both inmates were completely uncooperative on the subject.

Harley learned about the Joker's revenge and spent the next three weeks of therapy sessions with Dr Leland swooning endlessly over how romantic it was while Dr Leland increased her daily intake of alka-seltzer.

The Joker paraded around Arkham like cock of the walk, enjoying the jealous stares he was now the subject of. The next time he saw Two-Face he gave him a grinning thumbs-up, before moving his fist vigorously up and down in the air, thumb pointed directly at the former District-Attorney. Two-Face snapped the table tennis racquet he'd been holding.

One day, four weeks after the sordid events had reached their finish, Batman discovered Tim Drake rifling through the Bat-Cave's video files.  
Tim Drake claimed he had been looking for recordings of news reports of the incident for a school project.  
Batman had replied he'd deleted all the files from the case.

They both knew the other was lying.

**END**

--

_Hey everyone and thanks so much for sticking with me on this one until the end!_

_Props must, as always, go to zhinxy for both contributing specific ideas, some lines of dialogue and lots of support and encouragement, acting as a sounding board for other elements as well. She is unbelievably AWESOME.  
_

_I wrote this fic simply because the idea of it amused me. That's how it began. My original vision was far simpler and probably wouldn't have involved the Batfamily or gone on for as many chapters, but it kind of grew a mind of its own._

_I'm a hardcore shipper, as you all know. I love JxHQ for the psychology and intensity and outright weirdness of it. I also love, very much, exploring their sex lives (the majority of that fic is hosted elsewhere, at the JokerxHarley fanfiction archive). _

_But I have a good sense of humour about it all. As much as I love this stuff, I'm aware it's all pretty ridiculous as well. You can't take it TOO seriously even when you do, if you know what I mean.  
_

_So through this fic I had the opportunity to make fun of myself and of fandom obsession with the sex lives of our favourite characters. It's hardly unique to JxHQ; fans everywhere wonder obsessively about how our fave characters would choose to bump uglies, and spend a lot of time pouring over it in exquisite detail, living our fantasies vicariously through fanfiction and fanart._

_So this story became an opportunity to poke gentle fun at this preoccupation. It allowed me to parody fandom theories and philosophies (many of which include my own), the characters' potential reactions and the passion of the fans. I LOVE FANDOM! I love being a part of it, creating and sharing and adding to it with my own contribution. BUT IT IS EFFING FUNNY, as the saying goes.  
_

_We are voyeurs in our way. There's nothing wrong with that. The ability to laugh at ourselves makes it even more enjoyable. I had so much fun writing this story and I hope you enjoyed it as well!  
_


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